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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28698960">Kept</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiraHunter/pseuds/FiraHunter'>FiraHunter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Touched [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Character Study, Commander Castiel, Dom Castiel (Supernatural), Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Soft Castiel (Supernatural), Telepathy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:35:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>75,546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28698960</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiraHunter/pseuds/FiraHunter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Book Two. Sequel to "Touched." It's been a year since Brooke has seen the angel she fell in love with. When he returns to Earth, it should be a joyous occasion, but something seems... different. (Seasons 6&amp;7)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel (Supernatural)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Touched [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053692</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>PART ONE</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>One</em>
</p>
<p>Today was Rebecca Harris' birthday and Brooke had every intention of making it her mom's best birthday ever. She wandered the aisles of the grocery store, grabbing whatever looked good to bring back to the motel room, including a whole pie. One thing Brooke Harris and Dean Winchester had in common was that both of them would much rather have pie than cake. She laughed at that thought, for she hadn't thought of Dean in months, now. It had been a year since they'd stopped the Apocalypse, and no one from that group but Bobby had contacted her.</p>
<p>No one, including Castiel.</p>
<p>Brooke smiled and stared distractedly down at the tattoo on her left inner forearm—Castiel's name in Enochian. Black ink. She rubbed it with her fingers, something she'd gotten into the habit of doing since she'd gotten it. It was easier to touch than the other two tattoos she'd gotten since the Apocalypse had ended. Three in all, and all commemorated Castiel, or her relationship with him.</p>
<p>It had been a year with no word, but he had once promised to return to her, and she still trusted him to keep that promise. She put both hands back onto the shopping cart and continued going down the aisles.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>"Mom, I bought pie!" she called out as she opened the door to the motel room.</p>
<p>"I told you I didn't want to celebrate my birthday!" Rebecca said, coming out of the bathroom.</p>
<p>"Too bad, I bought you a present and everything." She grinned at her mother and dropped the pie onto the table, and the bag of everything else onto one of the beds.</p>
<p>Before a year ago, Brooke hadn't spoken to her mother in years, not since Brooke had left the Hunting life—before being unceremoniously thrust back into it after meeting Castiel. Then, everything with Cass and the Winchesters had distracted her away from making contact with her mother. Of course, communication was a two-way street, and Rebecca hadn't made an effort, either.</p>
<p>Their first meeting in years hadn't gone very smoothly, but they'd worked past the bumps in the road eventually. They'd gone back to Hunting together, which had been a great way for Brooke to ignore her feelings and pretend that she was okay. Still, her three tattoos showed the truth, bleeding the pain of losing Castiel through her skin. In sleep, the rest of her pain bled through as nightmares. Sometimes she had pleasant dreams, but they were always about Castiel, and they always hurt worse than the nightmares, because she never wanted to wake up from them.</p>
<p>So, she threw herself into Hunting with her mother, threw herself into repairing their relationship. Anything to fill the void in her heart. Rebecca helped, but no one could ever fill the emptiness in her mind where Castiel's thoughts had once resided. No one could ever be bigger than Castiel, be vast enough, to fill the angel-sized hole in her body, in her being.</p>
<p>"Hey!"</p>
<p>Brooke looked up to see Rebecca eyeing her somewhat suspiciously.</p>
<p>"Stop thinking about your angel boyfriend and come eat pie," her mother said.</p>
<p>Brooke smiled ruefully, realizing she'd been rubbing the tattoo of Castiel's name with the thumb of her right hand. She turned to the bag she'd dropped onto the bed and rustled through it, pulling out birthday candles. She took a lighter from her Jeans pocket. "All right," she said, ripping open the package of birthday candles. "What are you, twenty-seven?" She grinned.</p>
<p>Her mother smiled and shook her head. "I wish."</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Later that night, the room was strewn about with party streamers and confetti from those little poppers that you pulled. Empty beer bottles stood on the table, along with a mostly-eaten apple pie. Brooke and her mother lay in their respective beds, mostly asleep, but still somewhat a part of the waking world. It must have been something like two in the morning, that time when you were at your most vulnerable and nothing you said made any sense. They'd been reminiscing about old hunts, and Brooke's childhood for most of the night, something that Brooke didn't think they'd ever done. It had been a good day, and a good birthday for her mother.</p>
<p>Just as Brooke was beginning to truly fall asleep, her cellphone rang.</p>
<p>Annoyed, and with half a mind to press Decline and throw the phone across the room, she flipped it open. "Hello?" she asked, her voice gruff and thick with sleep.</p>
<p>"Brooke."</p>
<p>Castiel's voice jolted her awake. She sat up in the bed so fast that she felt dizzy, and she put her face in her empty hand.</p>
<p>"Castiel," she said, her voice still rough, but much clearer. "It's you, isn't it?"</p>
<p>"Yes," he said. "Where are you?"</p>
<p>Brooke almost laughed. The way he spoke to her made it seem like no time had passed since the last time they had met. "It's really early," she said, not answering his question. "Or… late. I don't know."</p>
<p>"Something's come up," Castiel said, sounding annoyed. "Where are you?"</p>
<p>"I'm with my mom, in a motel room. It was her birthday today."</p>
<p>"Are you going to tell me where you are?" he demanded.</p>
<p>"Give me one second," she said, and leaned over to turn the light on.</p>
<p>In the bed next to her, Rebecca groaned at the light.</p>
<p>"Mom," Brooke said, placing her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "Mom, Castiel is back."</p>
<p>"What?" her mother asked, sitting up and rubbing her face.</p>
<p>"<em>Castiel</em> is back," Brooke repeated, slowly.</p>
<p>Her mother stared at her, half-asleep. "Your angel boyfriend?"</p>
<p>"Yes. He wants to know where I am, which means the second I tell him, he's gonna poof into the room."</p>
<p>"Great," Rebecca said, and Brooke couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not.</p>
<p>"Are you cool with that?" she asked.</p>
<p>Rebecca blinked sleepily. "Sure."</p>
<p>Brooke took her hand away from the mouthpiece. "Castiel?"</p>
<p>"Yes," he said.</p>
<p>She gave him the address of the motel. A moment later, a rush of air blew across Brooke's face, and Castiel was standing in the dimly-lit motel room, looking as if he hadn't changed at all in the year that he'd been gone.</p>
<p>Brooke forgot her mother entirely the moment he appeared, and got slowly out of bed. Something <em>was</em> different about him. He had put up the barrier between their minds. He glowed with his own angelic light, but it was dim—not the overwhelming brightness that she had prepared herself for.</p>
<p>Castiel was there, but he refused to meet her eyes. Brooke reached out for him with her mind, and immediately met resistance. He was hiding something from her.</p>
<p>She stared at him, feeling hurt and betrayed. She walked up to him, but he began to step away from her when she got close enough to touch him.</p>
<p>She stopped, and stared, and began to breathe heavily. "Fuck you," she said, lowly. "You disappear for a year—fine. I was expecting that. But you come back, and you won't even let me touch you. <em>Me</em>. Have you forgotten who I am?"</p>
<p>"There are things I can't tell you," Castiel said, quietly. "Things I can't tell anyone. I wouldn't even be here but—</p>
<p>"But <em>what</em>?" Her voice had gotten louder, and all traces of sleep had left her.</p>
<p>"Dean… made me come here, to see you."</p>
<p>"<em>Dean Winchester</em> made you come see me?" she repeated.</p>
<p>Castiel still would not meet her gaze.</p>
<p>"Why are you even here, Castiel?" she asked, feeling something between rage and absolute despair. She didn't know whether to scream or cry.</p>
<p>"The weapons of Heaven have been stolen, and we're looking for them."</p>
<p>"And you need my help—is that it?"</p>
<p>"No. We don't need your help. But Dean refused to help me unless I… spoke to you."</p>
<p>Brooke scoffed and shook her head, staring up at the ceiling and feeling tears come unbidden to her eyes. They rolled down her temples and into her hair. "Dean Winchester had to vouch for me… What is the world coming to?"</p>
<p>There was a small cough from behind her and she turned to find her mother still in the room. Brooke stared at Rebecca, trying to remember if her mother had always been there, or if she'd suddenly appeared out of thin air, like Castiel.</p>
<p>Rebecca stood and got out of bed. "I'll be outside," she said, slipping on her shoes. Then she walked past both of them and out the door, closing it gently behind her.</p>
<p>Brooke stood and stared at the spot on the bed where her mother had been sitting, then she spun on the spot and reached wildly for Castiel, who immediately disappeared. He reappeared behind her—she could feel him. She spun to face him again, her eyes wide and crazy. "You were never going to tell me you were back, were you? <em>How long have you been on Earth</em>?" Her voice was getting louder and louder, and it wavered with emotion.</p>
<p>"I only just arrived less than a day ago."</p>
<p>Brooke stood and breathed, her nostrils flaring. "What are you hiding from me?" she demanded.</p>
<p>Castiel stared at her, and his eyes were sad. "I can't tell you," he said. "You wouldn't like it."</p>
<p>"<em>Obviously</em>," she said. "Otherwise you wouldn't be hiding it. <em>What is it</em>?"</p>
<p>But Castiel simply stood, resolutely, like a statue. His mouth became a firm line.</p>
<p>She stared at him. They were silent, together, for a long time. Finally, she said, "I don't think you understand," and turned her left arm to show him where his Enochian name was etched into her skin.</p>
<p>He stared at it, his expression going from serious to wondrous. "You… tattooed my name onto your arm?" he asked, as if this were the craziest thing that Brooke could have possibly done.</p>
<p>"You think <em>that's </em>crazy?" she asked. She turned away from him, so that her back was facing him, and tore her shirt off. Standing half-naked, now, she exposed her second tattoo to him: a large back piece of angel wings, spreading across both of her shoulders and partly down both arms. The wings "spread" when she lifted her arms. She spun to face him again, bare-chested, and saw him looking at her as if he were heart-broken.</p>
<p>Defiantly, she approached him, but did not try to touch him. "<em>Look</em>!" she snapped, and halfway pulled her sweatpants down, exposing the last tattoo, right above her bikini line, the words: Angel Whore. The derisive nickname that every angel and demon had given her for attaching herself so completely to Castiel. It was a slur that she considered a badge of pride, enough to permanently ink it into her skin, directly above her vagina, so that if Castiel ever fucked her again, it would be right there.</p>
<p>"That's…" Castiel began, staring down at the words. "Inappropriate," he finished.</p>
<p>"Fuck you," Brooke said again. "I gave <em>everything</em> to you. <em>Everything!</em>"</p>
<p>A feeling, long dormant, began to bubble up inside her. A feeling like her blood was on fire, and her bones were melting. A feeling that caused her vision to go white, and a ringing to go off in her ears. She grit her teeth, breathing hard and fast, her knees weakening as the feeling overtook her.</p>
<p>"Brooke…"</p>
<p>She could hear Castiel saying her name, but it sounded so far away…</p>
<p>"Brooke… Brooke!"</p>
<p>Her whole body shook.</p>
<p>
  <em>NO!</em>
</p>
<p>Castiel gripped her shoulders, and the wall between them shattered into a million pieces. Light flooded her senses. It overwhelmed her feelings of anger, of betrayal. It overwhelmed… everything.</p>
<p>
  <em>Castiel was beautiful—beautiful and terrifying. A year away from him had brought the terror of his true form back to her. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Castiel was beautiful and terrifying.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Castiel was light, and life. His mind was expansive and alien.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Castiel was everywhere.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Castiel was everything.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Castiel had brought back Sam Winchester from Hell, but without his soul.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Castiel was working with the demon Crowley, who was now the self-proclaimed king of Hell.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Castiel wanted to absorb the souls of Purgatory so that he would be strong enough to kill Raphael. </em>
</p>
<p>Brooke gasped, as if she'd been deprived of air for minutes. She became aware of her body, lying on the floor, her upper half cradled in Castiel's arms.</p>
<p>"It's a stupid idea," she whispered to him.</p>
<p>"I'm aware," he said, quietly.</p>
<p>"But I have faith in you," she continued. "I won't stop you."</p>
<p>Castiel was silent for a time. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you," he said.</p>
<p>"You <em>should</em> have."</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>They were silent again, half-sitting there in the dim light of the motel room at two o'clock in the morning.</p>
<p>"You can't tell Sam or Dean about this," Castiel said. "You might understand, because you and I are linked together and bonded in a way that even Dean and I are not. But the Winchesters… they'll try to stop me. But this is the only way to kill Raphael."</p>
<p>"Fine," Brooke said, her voice flat. "If I have to lie to my friends, so be it."</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," Castiel said. "I wanted to protect you from all of this…"</p>
<p>"Too late for that. I'm in this with you, now. We'll keep the secret together." She shook her head. "You're only here because Dean cares enough about me to <em>make</em> you come here. And now I have to <em>lie</em> to him."</p>
<p>Castiel said nothing, but now that their minds were linked she could feel how deep down his sorrow and regret went. He hated this with a roaring passion, but it was the only plan he could come up with. The war in Heaven had destroyed countless numbers of angels; Raphael was wreaking havoc, and needed to be stopped at all costs.</p>
<p>There had once been a time in which Brooke might have stood against Castiel, but the time for second-guessing the angel was long past. The night she had had sex with him was the night she knew that she was truly meant to Witness him. She was meant to stand beside him. She was meant to rise when he rose, and fall when he fell. Whether it was prophecy, or whether she had chosen this fate herself, she didn't care. Her destiny was inextricably tied to Castiel, and she had accepted that long ago.</p>
<p>She pushed herself up off the floor, and moved to the bed to put on her sleep shirt.</p>
<p>"Wait," Castiel said, and went to her.</p>
<p>She could feel him standing beside her. He put a hand on her shoulder and guided her so that her back was in the lamplight. He was studying her angel wing tattoo.</p>
<p>"You know my wings look nothing like this," he said.</p>
<p>"Well, yeah, but your wings probably would have been impossible to describe to a tattoo artist," she told him, and turned to look up at him.</p>
<p>He grabbed her arm gently and turned it upwards, staring down at his Enochian name inked into her skin. "You've branded yourself," he murmured.</p>
<p>"I was already branded," she said. "Just not anywhere visible."</p>
<p>"You mean your ribs?" he asked.</p>
<p>She laughed quietly. "I forgot about that. No, I mean here." She pointed to her head. "And here." She pointed again, to her heart.</p>
<p>He went quiet, and she could feel him processing her words. He felt sad, conflicted, unsure of how to take the fact that she had etched <em>him</em> into her skin.</p>
<p>"The real brand was this one," she said, with a grin, and pulled the band of her sweatpants down to reveal the Angel Whore tattoo above her bikini line.</p>
<p>"You shouldn't have done that one," he reprimanded softly, shaking his head. "That name is meant to be an insult to you."</p>
<p>She stared at him. "Yes, I know, Castiel. And by inking it onto me, I reclaimed it. Besides, I never found it insulting. People call other people names when they don't understand, or they're afraid. The other angels, and the demons, they don't understand the bond I have with you, so it annoys them, or intimidates them. But <em>I </em>understand the bond, and <em>you</em> understand the bond, and that's all that matters. <em>Us</em>."</p>
<p>Castiel stood with her in the half-light. He brought his forehead down to touch hers, a movement that was so familiar that she felt her eyes close automatically, and felt their breathing sync in only a moment. Suddenly, it felt as if the past year hadn't even happened—that no time had passed since their last meeting. They stood like that, and breathed together for a time, long past their usual count of five breaths.</p>
<p>Then he moved his head down farther and kissed her.</p>
<p><em>I can't be with you all the time</em>, he told her. <em>There is still a war raging in Heaven.</em></p>
<p><em>It doesn't matter</em>, she replied. <em>You come to me when you can. I'll go to Sam and Dean and help them as much as </em>I<em> can. I won't tell them anything.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>I know you won't. </em>
</p>
<p>He pulled away from her. "Tell your mother happy birthday," he said, and then he vanished in a gust of wind.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Two</em>
</p>
<p>Brooke was on her way to Sam and Dean, having said goodbye to her mother for now—her mother, who had refused to get involved with anything to do with the Winchesters. Probably a smart move. She was driving down the freeway when Dean called her. Dean, who hadn't talked to her in a year. Dean, who had vouched for her when Castiel hadn't wanted to see her.</p>
<p>"Dean," she said, cheerily, when she answered the phone.</p>
<p>"Cass <em>tortured</em> a kid," Dean said, without preamble.</p>
<p>Brooke paused. "He what?"</p>
<p>"<em>Tortured a kid</em>," Dean repeated, with more emphasis. "Had to read his soul. Shoved his hand right inside this kid's chest!"</p>
<p>"Oh my God! Did the kid <em>die</em>?"</p>
<p>"No, no, but…" Dean sighed. "It was… It was bad."</p>
<p>Brooke took a breath. <em>Damn it, Cass</em>, she thought. "I'll… talk to him, if you want me to."</p>
<p>"I don't know; he didn't listen to <em>me</em>."</p>
<p>"I'll try, anyways. I'm almost over to where you guys are."</p>
<p>"Cass left."</p>
<p>"That's fine, I'll stick with you and Sam."</p>
<p>Dean paused. "All right," he said, after a moment, though he sounded confused.</p>
<p>"Cass is busy," Brooke explained. "He's going up and down from Heaven to Earth, and since I can't go with him to Heaven, I'll just… stick with you two."</p>
<p>"Fine," Dean said, sounding agreeable enough.</p>
<p>They hung up.</p>
<p><em>Cass, I know you can hear when people pray to you</em>, Brooke thought<em>. Could you do me a favor and </em>not <em>torture anymore children? I promised to keep your secrets but I didn't know you'd become such an asshole in the year that you were away.</em></p>
<p>There was no response from Castiel, no feeling of acknowledgement. Nothing.</p>
<p>Brooke sighed and kept driving.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke stood beside Bobby as he began the ritual of calling forth Crowley's son. She had arrived at his house a day before, much to his surprise. After he had been so helpful with the Lamia that she and Sam and Dean had killed, Brooke had decided to pay him a visit. He'd gone off on the boys over the phone, letting them know how ungrateful they both were, and after that, Brooke had decided that Bobby needed her more than the Winchesters did. Or maybe she needed <em>him</em>. They hadn't physically seen each other since the Apocalypse, though they spoke on the phone once every couple of weeks.</p>
<p>Bobby had, at first, been annoyed that she was there. He didn't really want to involve her in his dealings with Crowley, or anything at all to do with demons. But Brooke reminded him that she was a big girl and she could handle herself in a fight, if it came to that, so Bobby had eventually relented and explained what was going on. He was going to trap Crowley and use information that he had gathered from the ghost of Crowley's son against the demon. He'd already called Sam and Dean and had them headed off to Scotland to find the bones of Crowley's body—his original body. Apparently, if you burned the original human bones of a demon, they'd go up in flame just like a ghost. Brooke thought that there was about a hundred ways that such a plan could go wrong, but that was life when you were a Hunter, so she agreed.</p>
<p>When Crowley appeared in the basement, he was just as cheeky as usual. "Ah," he said, raising his eyebrows at Brooke. "The Angel Whore's here." He eyed the tattoo on her arm, the one of Castiel's name in Enochian. "A little obsessed, are we?"</p>
<p>She gave him a tight-lipped smile and moved toward him, staying out of the Devil's Trap. She pulled down the front of her Jeans, just enough to show the area above her bikini line: Angel Whore. "You have no idea," she murmured. She pulled her Jeans back up all the way and moved back over to Bobby, who was looking extremely uncomfortable.</p>
<p>"Was that necessary?" he asked her.</p>
<p>She glanced at him. "No. But I have my own message to send. Now, get on with it."</p>
<p>Bobby gave her A Look, like, <em>Don't tell me what to do</em>. And then he got on with it.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>The next afternoon, Brooke was on her way to a case, without the Winchester brothers. She knew she had told Castiel that she would stay with them, but staying with them meant actively lying to them about what she did and did not know about Castiel, and she just couldn't make herself okay with it all. She would keep Castiel's stupid secrets, but the more distance she could put between her and having to tell Sam or Dean about them, the better.</p>
<p>Castiel called her as she was thinking about it all. She sighed and answered him. "What?"</p>
<p>"Where are you?" he asked.</p>
<p>"What, no hello?" she snapped. Her feelings, even for Castiel, had been frayed ever since he'd returned. She knew all this bullshit about absorbing the souls of purgatory was going to end badly and she was pissed off at herself that she had sworn secrecy.</p>
<p>"You didn't say hello, either!" Castiel snapped back at her.</p>
<p>Brooke gripped the steering wheel tighter and turned off the road sharply, the tires squealing in protest. In a clipped tone, she told him where she was.</p>
<p>He whooshed into the car a moment later.</p>
<p>"You know," she said, turning to him, "I've got half a mind to tell Sam and Dean about your <em>stupid</em> plan."</p>
<p>Castiel stared her down. "I <em>will </em>make you forget me, and I will never speak to you again, if you decide to tell Sam and Dean <em>anything</em> about my plans."</p>
<p>Brooke's hand shot out and she grabbed one of his own hands. She forcefully curled all but his first two fingers down and pressed them to her own forehead. "You do it, then," she growled at him through clenched teeth. "I fucking <em>dare</em> you." She stared at him just as hard, breathing heavily.</p>
<p>The air was heavily charged. He sat there with his fingers pressed to her forehead for a second, two, three… Eventually, he ripped his hand away. "I don't have time for your emotional outbursts. Raphael is looking for me as we speak. I just came to tell you that Crowley can't die."</p>
<p>She stared at him. "<em>What</em>?" she said, utterly confused at his sudden change of topic.</p>
<p>"Crowley," Castiel repeated. "I'm working with him, remember? He's helping me find a way to access the souls in Purgatory. But Sam and Dean—and Bobby—they've all been bothering him, using summoning rituals. And they're thinking of killing him, despite the deal that he made with Bobby about getting his soul back."</p>
<p>"What the fuck do you want <em>me</em> to do about it?" she demanded. "I can't go tell them, <em>Hey, guys, we should all be nicer to the dickwad demon.</em> In fact, I probably shouldn't be around Sam or Dean at all, since I might <em>accidentally</em> tell them something about you and your stupid plan to absorb forty million souls."</p>
<p>"Twenty million," Castiel corrected her, as if that was the most important part of what she'd said. "Crowley gets half, remember?"</p>
<p>"Oh, yes," Brooke said, sarcastically. "Thank you so much. <em>You're missing my point</em>."</p>
<p>"Fine!" Castiel snapped. "Then stay away from Sam and Dean."</p>
<p>Brooke opened her mouth to yell something at him, and suddenly she was crying. She covered her mouth with one hand and turned away from him, overwhelmed by her own emotions.</p>
<p>She could feel Castiel's mind, his own emotions. It was taking everything in him not to tell her that he didn't have time for this.</p>
<p>She wanted to simultaneously apologize for the sudden waterworks and also smack him in the face for being a dick. <em>Since when do you not make time for me?</em> she asked him in her mind, since she did not trust her voice. <em>I asked you this the first night you saw me after you came back, and I'll ask it again. Have you forgotten who I am? I branded your name into my arm, and the slur that all your brothers and sisters call me above my </em>vagina.</p>
<p>She turned to stare at him. "What the fuck happened to you in Heaven?" she asked, her voice wavering. Of course, there were no true secrets between them, but that didn't mean that she could access and comprehend every one of Castiel's memories at the same time. "Where did you go?" she continued.</p>
<p>"What do you mean <em>where did I go</em>?" he asked, and there was an edge to his voice, but it had also grown softer.</p>
<p>She shook her head at him. "I mean <em>you</em>. The you that I knew a year ago. The you that came to me that last night, shaking in your skin and nervous as all hell. The you that would've given a shit about having to torture a child. The you that could be <em>kind</em> and <em>understanding</em>." She stared into his eyes, shaking. "I don't know you anymore, Castiel. I thought you <em>trusted</em> me with your secrets."</p>
<p>"I don't have the luxury of being kind and understanding right now," Castiel said, and though he was still angry, his voice was calmer. He was really trying to help her understand. "Heaven is at war with itself—civil war. It is <em>me</em> and those who would follow me against <em>Raphael</em> and his own followers. Hundreds of angels have already died." He stared at her, willing her to understand, then he reached out with both hands and grabbed her face.</p>
<p>He poured himself, all he was, into her, begging her to take his emotions, to take his thoughts. "Please," he said, his voice just a whisper. It was the most vulnerable she had had seen him be since he'd come back. "I don't <em>want</em> to be this way—don't you understand? I <em>have</em> to turn off the part of me that loves you. I <em>have</em> to do things that, under normal circumstances, would be <em>unthinkable</em>. I don't have the option of choosing the slower, kinder way. I am <em>at war</em>, and I am <em>leading</em> one side of a rebellion. Leaders don't always get to do the nice thing."</p>
<p>Castiel leaned over the console and pressed his forehead against hers. <em>Please…</em> he said, again, and she could feel all of his pain, the pain that he had been keeping hidden deep within himself for so long. She realized that he had missed her just as much as she had missed him, but he had not been able to show any weakness while in Heaven, or it would have undermined everything he was trying to accomplish.</p>
<p>"If there was a way," he said, slowly, "to take you everywhere, to show you everything—first-hand—I would. But the safest and easiest thing for me to do is to leave you be as much as I can. You understand that Raphael isn't just looking for <em>me</em>. He is looking for <em>you</em>." Castiel pulled back from her to look her in the eyes. "If he finds you, he <em>will </em>kill you, and he will kill your mother, and Bobby, and Sam and Dean, and anyone else you or I hold dear—to get to <em>me</em>." He took a deep, slow breath. "I cannot afford to love you right now, to take time for you, because the longer I am near you, the more danger I put you in."</p>
<p>Brooke closed her eyes. She spoke the words, even though she knew they weren't true: "I'm not helpless, you know."</p>
<p>Castiel nodded, and a trickle of understanding flowed into her mind. He wanted her to know that he knew why she had said it, why she felt the need to say it. "Against an Archangel and all his followers, you are fairly helpless," he said, gently. "You are strong, but not <em>that</em> strong."</p>
<p>Brooke nodded, realizing, truly, that just because Castiel was back… it didn't mean he was <em>back</em>. Their relationship would have to change if they were to survive this war. She pulled his face down to her and kissed him, for the last time in a long time, then she puled away. "Do one thing for me," she said, quietly.</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>"Wrap me in ice, like you did once, when we thought we were going to kill the Devil, back with Ellen and Jo. Shield my heart in ice."</p>
<p>Castiel stared at her for a moment, then nodded. He gripped one shoulder and sent more of himself into her mind. Slowly, he began to weave gossamer strands of ice around her mind and her emotions, protecting them, dulling them. Slowly, she began to feel less human, and more angelic. She began to grow more aware of the Grace in her blood, surging through her. Her bones felt wrapped in steel, her mind gone cold and instinctive, her feelings still there, but distant and muted. She was not soulless, as Sam had become, but she was something similar, much more in tune with the angelic part of her—the Grace that Castiel had given her—than she was with the part of her that was human.</p>
<p>Castiel removed his hand from her shoulder. "The effect will wear off in time," he explained. "I will probably need to reapply it at some point."</p>
<p>Brooke stared at him, blankly, and nodded. "Right," she said.</p>
<p>Castiel looked at her for a moment, as if wanted to say something, and then he vanished.</p>
<p>Brooke stared at the empty seat where he had once sat, and felt the barest whisper of sadness at his leaving. The feeling was a little like a dream that you forget the moment you wake up. She turned and started her car, and drove down the freeway.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Three</em>
</p>
<p>Brooke hadn't spoken to Bobby, or Sam and Dean, or Castiel in weeks. She'd gone off after her last interaction with Castiel to do some solo Hunting. She had never felt better, or so unemotional. Her researching and tracking skills were on point; her hand-to-hand combat was better than it had ever been; she didn't have nightmares when she slept. The only thing that disturbed was the strangeness of the monsters she had Hunted—strange in that she had never seen their likeness before. Bobby had warned her to be extra careful the last time she'd seen him and she was starting to understand why.</p>
<p>Her cellphone rang. She glanced at the number, then brought it to her ear. "Castiel."</p>
<p>"Brooke… Hello."</p>
<p>She squinted. "You never say hello. It's just, <em>Brooke, where are you?</em>"</p>
<p>"I… know. But I said hello this time."</p>
<p>"Um… hello," Brooke said, and then told him where she was, pulling off the two-lane highway and into the dirt.</p>
<p>He appeared in the passenger seat. "I need you to come with me," he said.</p>
<p>"Right. Let's go." She placed a hand on his shoulder.</p>
<p>He stared at her for a moment. "The effects of muting your emotions are still there, I see," he mused.</p>
<p>"Yes," she said. "Are we going?"</p>
<p>"We're going to see Dean, so I need you to—</p>
<p>"Not say anything suspicious about your plans to absorb half the souls in Purgatory? Right." She nodded. "Got it."</p>
<p>Castiel's mind was working, and he seemed like he was about to say something, but he thought better of it. Brooke blinked and they were standing in a motel room.</p>
<p>Dean, who had been facing the other way, turned around and saw them. He glared at Castiel. "Are you kidding me?" he snapped. "I have been on red alert about Sam, and you come for some stupid <em>horn</em>?"</p>
<p>Brooke hand was still on Castiel's shoulder, and she could feel him sinking into himself, pulling back from Dean's harsh tone. Brooke had never known Castiel to shrink from anything or anyone, let alone Dean Winchester. Dean had always yelled at and berated Cass, but the angel could go toe-to-toe with him. But, apparently, not this time.</p>
<p>And that was when Brooke realized that she was here as… moral support. Castiel's guilt at lying to the Winchesters was laying heavily on him.</p>
<p>"You asked me to be here, and I came," Castiel said to Dean.</p>
<p>"I've been asking you to be here for <em>days</em>, you dick!"</p>
<p>A part of Castiel shattered at the insult.</p>
<p>Brooke, still mostly emotionless, felt the Grace in her blood flare up. Emotionless or not, she and Castiel were bonded, physically and mentally, and, with the ice over her heart as it was, she did not have the patience for Dean. She took a threatening step toward him, throwing one hand up in front of Castiel as if to protect him from the Winchester.</p>
<p>Dean stared at her. "And where the hell have <em>you</em> been?" he demanded. "I thought you were Hunting with me and Sam now!"</p>
<p>"You wanted me with you, you woulda called me," Brooke said, her voice low.</p>
<p>Dean looked like he wanted to say something, but Castiel had moved behind her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and the Grace in her blood calmed.</p>
<p>"I didn't come about Sam," Castiel began, "because I have nothing to <em>offer</em> about Sam."</p>
<p>"Well, that's great," Dean replied, "because for all we know, he's just gift wrap for <em>Lucifer</em>."</p>
<p>"No, he's…" Castiel shook his head, and then eyed Dean's empty glass. He turned and picked up the bottle behind him on the table and poured more alcohol into Dean's glass. "He's not Lucifer."</p>
<p>"And how do you know that?" Dean asked.</p>
<p>"If Lucifer escaped the cage, we'd feel it."</p>
<p>Brooke stood silently, her arms folded over her chest, keeping her eyes mostly on Dean, lest he decide he wanted to go toe-to-toe with Castiel again.</p>
<p>"What is wrong with him?" Dean asked, staring at Castiel.</p>
<p>"I don't know, Dean. I'm sorry." As the angel lied directly to his face, Brooke could feel more of his resolve slipping.</p>
<p><em>Keep it together, Castiel</em>, she said to him, silently.</p>
<p>"What happened to you, Cass?" Dean said, quietly, shaking his head. "You used to be human, or at least <em>like</em> one."</p>
<p>Castiel shook his head, turning away, unable to look at Dean any longer. "I'm at war," he said, trying to explain without truly explaining. He leaned on the table. Brooke placed a hand on his shoulder, offering him her strength. Silently, he acknowledged the gesture, then said to Dean, "Certain… regrettable things are now required of me."</p>
<p>"And Gabriel's Horn of Truth? That's a real thing?" Dean asked.</p>
<p>Castiel turned, suddenly, and was all business. "You've seen it?"</p>
<p>"I think it's in town. Something's forcing people—</p>
<p>Castiel vanished.</p>
<p>"Oh, well…" Dean said, bringing the glass up to his lips. "You're welcome!" He glanced at Brooke, who was still there. "Where'd he go?"</p>
<p>Brooke shook her head at him to indicate that she didn't know.</p>
<p>A second later, Castiel reappeared, behind Dean. "It isn't the Horn of Truth," Castiel said, as Dean choked on his drink.</p>
<p>"What are you talking about? You were gone for, like, two seconds. Where did you look?"</p>
<p>Castiel stared at him. "Everywhere," he said.</p>
<p>Dean blinked. "Right. Well, nice seein' ya, anyway." He gave Castiel a fake smile and turned away, his shoulders hunched.</p>
<p>Brooke forced herself not to sigh dramatically in his general direction.</p>
<p>Castiel stared at his back. "Dean," he began, his voice gentle.</p>
<p>"<em>What</em>?" Dean snapped.</p>
<p>"About your brother, I—I don't know what's wrong with him, but I do want to help. I'll make inquiries." Castiel walked over to Brooke and gripped her shoulder, teleporting them back to her car.</p>
<p>He sat in the passenger seat silently, his head bowed.</p>
<p>"Castiel," Brooke said.</p>
<p>He closed his eyes, then squeezed them shut harder and rubbed them with the heels of his hands. It was a very human thing to do.</p>
<p>Brooke stared at him. "Why do I feel like I've become more of an angel than <em>you</em>, recently?" she mused. "You've gotten bad at hiding your emotions."</p>
<p>He glanced at her, but said nothing.</p>
<p>"You're doing your best, aren't you?" she asked, trying to cheer him up a little.</p>
<p>"What if my best isn't good enough?" he muttered.</p>
<p>Brooke stared at the roof of her car for a moment. "Then <em>tell</em> them what you're planning."</p>
<p>"I can't," Castiel whispered.</p>
<p>"Then you still feel like this is the best option?"</p>
<p>He looked at her, his face betraying days of restlessness. "It's the <em>only</em> option," he said.</p>
<p>"Right." She turned in the seat to better face him. "Then you gotta keep going. You gotta be the cold, unfeeling bastard who saved my life and then dropped me off at Bobby's without a backward glance."</p>
<p>Castiel was nodding, slowly. "Yes," he agreed. Then he looked up at her again. "I worry about muting your emotions like this. You're acting… like Sam."</p>
<p>"You mean the Sam you brought back soulless?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "That's how <em>you</em> gotta be, Castiel. You can't afford to <em>feel </em>right now. You've got bigger problems. And you should probably get out of my car before you draw Raphael down on both of us."</p>
<p>Castiel stared at her sadly, then steeled his heart. He gripped her shoulder for a moment, and she could feel him replenish that icy, muted feeling in her mind. He was gone the next second.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke watched with clenched teeth as Castiel shoved his arm through Sam's chest, past his physical body, to go looking for his soul. The soul that she and Castiel both knew was not there. Sam's muffled screams filled her ears. She glanced up and away from him, though she kept her body facing his. Even with muffled emotions, it was awful to watch, and it made her glad that she could tell that much. It made her glad that her own soul was inside her body, where it belonged.</p>
<p>The belt fell from Sam's mouth as Castiel finally drew his arm out of his chest. Sam was sweating profusely, his face and neck shiny in the dim light.</p>
<p>"Did you find anything?" Dean asked.</p>
<p>"No," Castiel said, taking the belt from Sam.</p>
<p>Dean stared at him. "So that's <em>good</em> news?"</p>
<p>"I'm afraid not. Physically, he's perfectly healthy."</p>
<p>"Then what?"</p>
<p>"It's his soul," Castiel said, glancing at Dean. "It's gone." His blue eyes flicked to Brooke for just a moment, then away again.</p>
<p>They had to play this game carefully.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke stood beside Castiel, quietly, in Samuel Campbell's private office.</p>
<p>Samuel turned in his chair, surprised to see them standing there, then he smiled at them. "So this is Castiel?" he asked.</p>
<p>The angel nodded silently.</p>
<p>Samuel turned his eyes to Brooke. He studied the tattoo on her left forearm. "And you must be <em>Brooke</em>," he said, and the way he said her name indicated that he was about a half-step from calling her Angel Whore.</p>
<p>She smiled brightly at him. "Yes <em>sir</em>," she said, resisting the urge to punch him in the face. The ice around her emotions didn't seem to work well with anger.</p>
<p><em>Calm</em>, Castiel warned, silently.</p>
<p>Samuel's gaze traveled back to Castiel. "You're scrawnier than I pictured."</p>
<p>"This is a vessel," Castiel explained. "My <em>true</em> form is approximately the size of your Chrysler Building."</p>
<p>Brooke glanced at him with only her eyes, and a small smile pulled up one corner of her mouth. <em>Don't worry</em>, she said. <em>You're big enough</em>.</p>
<p>Castiel's head turned about an inch in her direction. <em>If you're referring to the size of my—</em></p>
<p>"All right, all right, quit bragging," Dean said from the other side of Samuel's desk. He turned to Samuel. "So, you were dead, and?"</p>
<p>"And pow," Samuel began. "I was on Elton Ridge. Don't know how, don't know why. I got nothing to hide, guys."</p>
<p>"Well, you mind if Cass, here, double-checks?" Dean asked.</p>
<p>Castiel rolled up his sleeve to shove his fist into Samuel's chest, pretending to look for a soul.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Four</em>
</p>
<p>Brooke was standing in the abandoned factory she'd been working a case in, hunting a ghost. Castiel stood before her, telling her he needed her to come with him to help him look for Crowley.</p>
<p>"Look for Crowley?" she repeated, holding a giant container of salt in one hand and a shotgun full of rock salt in the other. "You're <em>working </em>with Crowley. How did you <em>lose</em> him?"</p>
<p>"No, no," Castiel said, and approached her. He flooded her mind with information. <em>Sam and Dean want to talk to Crowley so I pretended to do a ritual to summon him, and then pretended it failed. So now they want to do it the hard way, and find him with maps. So I have to pretend to look for him with them, so I told them I would come back with you.</em></p>
<p>Brooke rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. "Why would you get me involved?" she demanded. "Things get more complicated the more people are involved in your lies!"</p>
<p>"Because it would look weird if you weren't there, helping me."</p>
<p>"Can't you tell them I'm busy Hunting? Which wouldn't even be a lie?"</p>
<p>Castiel opened his mouth to reply, but the ghost had appeared, attracted and annoyed by their arguing. It shrieked and flew towards Brooke, probably because she wasn't an angel and was less intimidating. She dropped the container of salt and aimed the shotgun at the ghost, shooting it full of rock salt. It disappeared, its shriek still resounding in the air.</p>
<p>Castiel hadn't even reacted to the ghost, or the shotgun going off. He was still staring semi-angrily at Brooke.</p>
<p>She lowered the gun and looked at him. "You're very good at focusing," she said. "You've got this stare you do that makes me all weak at the knees."</p>
<p>Castiel's jaw jutted, and he continued staring.</p>
<p>"Yeah, that one," Brooke said, grinning at him. "You're doing it right now. Makin' me all <em>wet</em> for you."</p>
<p>His expression broke, just a little. She felt him reach out for her with his mind, wondering if she was being sarcastic.</p>
<p><em>Only a little</em>, she said.</p>
<p>He quirked an eyebrow. <em>A little sarcastic or a little wet?</em></p>
<p>She chuckled, and didn't answer.</p>
<p><em>You're emotions aren't muted anymore</em>, he said.</p>
<p>
  <em>No. Been too long since the last time I've seen you. It wore off.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Do you want me to put it back?</em>
</p>
<p><em>Oh, no</em>, she said, smiling at him, her eyes blazing. <em>Been too long since I've been this horny.</em></p>
<p>He closed the distance between them, his trench coat billowing out behind him, wings spread, and kissed her, hard. She moaned into his kiss, dropping the salt and gun onto the ground and wrapping her arms around him.</p>
<p>He pulled back. "We don't have time for this," he said.</p>
<p>"Make time," she growled at him.</p>
<p>He kissed her again, shoving his tongue into her mouth. <em>We need to get back to Sam and Dean. Pretend to look for Crowley.</em></p>
<p>"Mmm…" she replied.</p>
<p>Castiel pulled away from her again, breathing hard. He placed his forehead against hers.</p>
<p>Automatically, she began to breathe deeper, slower. He matched her breathing, and she could feel him, feel his heartbeat slow, his blood go quiet.</p>
<p>"Guess this is what happens when we're not intimate for a while," Brooke murmured. "We fight, we glare at each other, we have angry make-out sessions. What are we, teenagers?"</p>
<p>"I've never been a teenager," Castiel said, completely seriously.</p>
<p>"God. Our minds our linked and you <em>still</em> don't get half the shit I say." Brooke laughed. "Take me to Sam and Dean," she said.</p>
<p>Castiel took a moment, to trace his thumb down her jawline. "I'm sorry I haven't been around much," he murmured, staring down at her, still so close to her face.</p>
<p>She touched his cheek. "Don't apologize to me for that. You do what you have to to stop Raphael. That's all."</p>
<p>He placed his forehead against hers, for just a moment, then teleported her away.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>They spent half an hour or so searching Samuel Campbell's private office, going through his books, his maps, his locked safe. They found nothing. Then Samuel appeared, holding his gun, and stared around at them all. The beginning of an argument ensued between Sam, Dean, and their grandfather, so Dean asked if Castiel and Brooke would give them a minute alone.</p>
<p>Brooke allowed herself to be teleported away.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Samuel, in the end, refused to help them, which meant they had to do more research on their own. They found some place to crash for the night, intent on pouring through book after book, looking for ways to locate Crowley. Sam and Dean had taken the table in the corner, and there were no more chairs, so Brooke took one of their books off the table and plopped down on the couch to go through it. Keeping up appearances and all that.</p>
<p>Castiel wandered about the room for a while, a book in one hand. Eventually, though, he grew restless and bored, tired of pretending to look for a demon that he knew, perfectly well, the location of. He sat down beside Brooke, who scooted over a little for him, flipping a page as if she'd actually been reading any of the book she'd taken from Sam and Dean half an hour earlier.</p>
<p>Castiel fidgeted on the couch for a while.</p>
<p><em>Cass,</em> Brooke thought to him, <em>chill. When </em>you're<em> fidgety, it makes</em> me<em> fidgety.</em></p>
<p>He grumbled incoherently at her, then got up and flipped on the TV. The volume was low, and he kept it that way so as not to disturb Sam and Dean, who were <em>actually</em> doing research. Castiel spent the next five minute flipping through channels. Brooke forced herself to ignore him or she'd end up smacking him. Then he got up off the couch again and began fiddling with something.</p>
<p>Brooke closed her eyes and massaged her temples with her fingers. <em>You are like a toddler. I thought angels were supposed to be calm, cool, and collected. You've been that before. Why can't you be that now?</em></p>
<p><em>This is infuriating</em>, he said. <em>Lying, pretending to help Sam and Dean find Crowley… Worrying, constantly, about Raphael, and you, and Sam and Dean.</em></p>
<p><em>Okay, all right</em>. Brooke took a breath.</p>
<p>Castiel had inserted a VHS tape into the player on top of the TV. He sat back down.</p>
<p>Brooke touched his hand for a moment, offering her strength and support, then she went back to pretending to read. She hoped that whatever movie he'd just put in would keep him occupied for more than three seconds. She actually began to read the book that she'd been flipping through, finding the information relatively interesting…</p>
<p>Brooke didn't know how long she'd been sitting there when Castiel spoke again. He had gone blessedly still for some time. "It's very complex," he murmured.</p>
<p>"Mm," Brooke, Sam, and Dean all replied at the same time, absorbed in whatever they were reading.</p>
<p>"If the pizza man truly loves this babysitter… why does he keep slapping her rear?"</p>
<p>Brooke looked up from her book and stared at the TV, then she turned and stared at Cass. Having been ignoring him for some time, droning out his thoughts and emotions as she had taught herself to do, she had hardly noticed his shift in emotional state. He was incredibly confused and… aroused.</p>
<p>His voice lowered an extra octave, and he stared seriously at the TV, squinting at it as if he'd never had sex in his life. "Perhaps she's done something wrong," he muttered.</p>
<p>Brooke continued to stare at him, then glanced over his shoulder and up at Sam and Dean, with an expression like, <em>What the fuck is happening?</em></p>
<p>"You watching porn?" Dean asked.</p>
<p>Castiel glanced up at him, but did not respond, and soon his gaze returned to the TV.</p>
<p>"Why?" Dean said.</p>
<p>"It was there," Castiel explained.</p>
<p>Dean was clearly flustered. "You don't watch porn in a room full of dudes," he explained, slowly, as if to a child. "And you don't… <em>talk</em> about it. And—and…" He gestured towards Brooke. "Your girlfriend's <em>right there</em>, which just makes it <em>even</em> <em>weirder</em>. Come on, man. Just turn it off."</p>
<p>Castiel looked at Dean awkwardly for a moment, then turned back to the TV, with no intention of turning it off… Then he glanced down at himself.</p>
<p>Brooke's heart skipped a beat.</p>
<p>"Oh, now he's got a boner," Dean muttered.</p>
<p>Castiel lifted his gaze, slowly, to Brooke, and filled her mind with memories of the last night they had seen each other, a year before.</p>
<p>Brooke felt her face flush, her breathing quicken.</p>
<p>Castiel stared at her, and he felt a little more like his old self, the version of him that would never back down from anything or anyone, who could make her orgasm by brushing his Grace against her <em>just</em> in the right—</p>
<p>There was a knock at the door.</p>
<p>Brooke jumped. Sam and Dean stood up, guns in hand.</p>
<p>But Castiel was still gazing at her, unmoving. His head tilted. She felt him penetrate her mind, delving deep, and she let him. There were no secrets between them.</p>
<p><em>I understand</em>, he said.</p>
<p>There was movement in the room. Another person had entered it. Brooke hardly noticed.</p>
<p><em>You would like it</em>, Castiel said, <em>if I did that to you. </em>It was not even remotely a question, but a statement of fact, for he had gone into the secret places of her mind and shown his light into their corners. <em>That's why you like it when I'm angry</em>, he continued. <em>You want to be controlled, to be told what to do, but by someone you know would never hurt you. </em></p>
<p>It was a strangely romantic thing to end on for such a sexually charged moment, that he would never hurt her.</p>
<p>"This what you boys do—sit around watching pornos with angels?"</p>
<p>The sound of Samuel's voice was so loud in her ears, it sounded like he'd yelled the words—and she hated him for it. For ruining the moment. For breaking whatever magical thing was happening between her and the angel whose name was tattooed into her skin. She flinched. Her blood was still pounding in her ears, every fiber of her being <em>screaming</em> for Castiel.</p>
<p>He cupped her face in his hands, ignoring everyone around them, and brought his forehead to hers. <em>Later</em>, he said, and that one word held so many unspoken promises that she nearly burst.</p>
<p>She breathed, nodded, and allowed him to pull her to her feet.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Going to some creepy place in the middle of the night had cooled Brooke's head off, mostly. She couldn't ditch her feelings completely, though. Being mentally connected to an angel meant that she could think his thoughts and feel his feelings just as well as her own, and Castiel was very good at focusing on two very different things at the same time. Even as he was concentrating on the plan that they had come up with, he was smoldering for her.</p>
<p>Brooke had sort of been in a daze for the last hour, but had managed to retain most of the information that was necessary to what they were doing.</p>
<p>What she wasn't expecting was that one of the demons they were working with was the one that Castiel had thrown into the ring of holy fire back when they'd gone after Lucifer.</p>
<p>And she was staring at Castiel like she wanted to bang his brains out. Or maybe kill him. It was hard to tell. "Remember me, Clarence?" she asked him. "I sure remember you."</p>
<p>Brooke felt rage burning inside her, and felt the Grace in her body respond to it. Castiel grabbed her hand, urging her to calm down. The rage died, and she stood taller with her standing beside him. "Why are we working with these abominations?" he demanded.</p>
<p>The demon woman smiled at him. "Keep talking dirty. It makes my meat suit all dewey."</p>
<p>Brooke wanted to stab her in the face. Castiel squeezed her hand harder than was necessary, and the pain brought her back to herself.</p>
<p>After Sam took back the demon blade and killed one of the demons they were supposed to be working with, he warned them all that they were leaving in an hour.</p>
<p>The demon woman began to walk away, then stopped and stared at Castiel like she <em>definitely</em> wanted to bang his brains out.</p>
<p>Brooke felt the Grace in her blood <em>scream</em>, her vision going white. She stepped between the bitch and her angel, ready to kill her.</p>
<p>
  <em>BROOKE!</em>
</p>
<p>His voice, so powerful in her mind, overwhelmed her own emotions and settled the Grace within her. When she could see again, she noticed that the demon was staring at her with something like surprise, as if she hadn't realized that Brooke was even there. Or maybe surprise at the strength of her anger. It was hard to tell. It was hard to tell <em>anything </em>in that moment.</p>
<p>Castiel stood behind her and his presence loomed at her back like flames about to touch her skin.</p>
<p><em>Sam said we leave in an hour</em>, he told her.</p>
<p><em>And? </em>she demanded, her mind too scattered to think clearly.</p>
<p>
  <em>Is your car back at the warehouse?</em>
</p>
<p><em>Yes</em>, she snapped.</p>
<p>He gripped her shoulder and they were standing beside her car, in the dark. Before she could even ask him what they were doing he had spun her around and slammed her against the car. He kissed her, breathing heavily in the small pauses when he pulled away from her. He was tearing at her clothes, at his own, his eyes glowing, his entire body vibrating like he was about to explode.</p>
<p>She shoved the coat off his shoulders and he tore it the rest of the way off, flinging it away. He pulled the suit jacket off of himself and balled it up before throwing it away onto the ground beside his coat. Then he tore at his shirt and the buttons exploded. She touched his arm and it was like fire.</p>
<p>Before she even knew what had happened, he had gotten most of her clothes off of her and was pushing her down into the back seat of her car.</p>
<p>"Cass!" she yelled, remembering all of a sudden. She placed a restraining hand on his chest.</p>
<p>He stared at her.</p>
<p>"Condom," she said.</p>
<p>He continued to stare at her for a moment, then he disappeared. He reappeared again two seconds later, over the top of her, holding a full box of condoms.</p>
<p>She almost laughed. "Did you just rob a store?"</p>
<p>"<em>Yes</em>," he said, his voice a growl. He got out of the car long enough to tear off his pants and take a condom from the box, and then he crawled over the top of her again. He hovered the condom in front of her face. "Put it on," he ordered, his eyes flaring. "<em>Angel Whore</em>."</p>
<p>She stared at him for a moment, shock etched into her face. She felt him almost break, almost soften for her, to let her know that he would never hurt her, that what he had just called her had been in the heat of the moment, but she yanked the condom from his hand before he had the chance. She opened it and reached down with her fingers.</p>
<p>He closed his eyes at her touch, breathing shakily.</p>
<p>The moment she had put it on him and her arm was clear of him, he entered her. She cried out and wrapped her arms around him.</p>
<p>This sex was not like the first time. This sex was not really about love. This was about releasing a year's worth of stress and tension. Castiel kissed her, but roughly, and she responded by biting his lip. He growled and tangled his fingers into her hair, down at the roots, gripping tightly, and pulled her head back. She dug her nails into his back.</p>
<p><em>Hold onto me</em>, he told her.</p>
<p>She wrapped her arms tighter around him and felt the whole world shift and twirl. She squeezed her eyes shut, but a moment later, the feeling had stopped. A little dizzy, she opened her eyes to see that he had teleported them, still in the car, so that she was sitting astride him. She stared at him, momentarily brought out of whatever animalistic moment they had been in. <em>That felt weird</em>, she said, and almost smiled.</p>
<p>He grabbed her hips and thrust up hard inside her. She cried out. <em>What does this feel like? </em>he asked.</p>
<p>She did not respond.</p>
<p>He continued to move, and simultaneously twisted himself through her mind, weaving like a snake. <em>What does it feel like?</em> he repeated, though he knew that she could not respond. She was long past the point of coherent thought.</p>
<p>The air around them began to tremble, to vibrate, to shimmer like a mirage, like heat coming off the pavement. It tightened, constricting them. Brooke's breathing became shallow and fast. She stared at Castiel, saw the sweat glistening on his face, his chest.</p>
<p>Thunder crashed above their heads, outside the car, and she was deafened by the sound of it, and the sound of the rain pounding down onto the roof. She knew what was coming. She could feel the tightening in her own body, at her core. She met Castiel's eyes, his eyes that were very blue in every flash of lightning that lit up the inside of the car. His eyes that begged for release.</p>
<p><em>Let go</em>, she said.</p>
<p>He threw his head back against the seat and let out something almost like a scream, and the air exploded outward from his body. The windows held—much to her surprise—but the car shook as if stuck in an earthquake. Brooke fell against him, riding the wave of her own release, her ears ringing, her vision blanking…</p>
<p>She came to, shaky and exhausted, but completely satisfied. Happier than she'd been in a long time. She sat up in his lap, her head buzzing pleasantly, and smiled at him, a big, sloppy smile.</p>
<p>He didn't exactly smile back at her, because he almost never smiled, but the corners of his mouth lifted just a little, and his eyes were twinkling.</p>
<p>"We should have done that a long time ago," Brooke murmured. "Would have saved us a lot of irritation."</p>
<p>"Yes," he agreed.</p>
<p>"You called me a whore," she said.</p>
<p>"I'd apologize, but you… seemed to like it."</p>
<p>She smiled. "I <em>did</em> like it, because <em>you</em> said it." She pulled back a little, gazing at him. "But what made you? It was quite a bold move, going into dirty talk like that."</p>
<p>"I learned it from the pizza man," he said.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Five</em>
</p>
<p>They appeared back among the others with twenty minutes to spare before they had to leave. Castiel had "healed" her so that her hair lay flat like it should and her face wasn't quite so flushed, and "healed" himself so that the buttons of his shirt were not broken and popped off.</p>
<p>The others of their party were off preparing, and Castiel and Brooke went looking for Dean. Rather, Castiel looked for Dean, and Brooke simply followed along. He had grabbed her hand to teleport them back and he had not yet let go of it. But when they found Dean, and Dean requested that he speak to Castiel alone, Brooke did not complain. She'd just had enough Castiel to last her a lifetime. The angel glanced at her out of the corner of his eye at that thought, one end of his mouth curling slightly, then she let go of his hand and left.</p>
<p>The next time she saw him, he wasn't as chipper as he had been. Whatever he and Dean had talked about must have been a mood-killer. But, even then, he was gentle and took a moment to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. He went still, right after, and then turned, and Brooke saw the demon woman, Meg, staring at them. Her eyes flicked between Brooke and Castiel, then she smirked at them and flounced off.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>The group made their way through the building, cautious for any signs of demons. Brooke, like Castiel, could sense that the way was not as clear as they thought, but she could not tell where the disturbance was coming from. She held a flashlight in her hand, lighting the way for herself as she walked beside Castiel, who did not need a flashlight to see where he was going. Creatures—not demons—called out for their help as they passed cell after cell, but they ignored their calls and continued on their way.</p>
<p>The turned a corner into a different hallway, and Castiel stopped, suddenly. "Wait," he called out to them. Brooke felt it a moment later.</p>
<p>"What is it?" Dean asked.</p>
<p>A sound like growling echoed up the hallway from behind them. Growling and barking. Hellhounds.</p>
<p>"Damn it," Meg said. "Here come the guards." Meg, who had stuck doggedly beside Castiel despite everything.</p>
<p>"Go!" Dean commanded, and they went. They ran down the hallway, slamming through a pair of double doors at the end and into a different room. One member of their group was attacked, dragged down, screaming. The rest of them made it through the door and Sam and Dean slammed them shut. They salted and barred the door, but Brooke had a feeling that wouldn't last them forever.</p>
<p>"I knew this was a trap," Dean growled, glaring at Meg.</p>
<p>"What do you want? A cupcake?" she quipped.</p>
<p>"How many are there?" Dean asked.</p>
<p>"Lots," said Meg. "I'll be pulling for you, from Cleveland."</p>
<p>"What?" Dean snapped.</p>
<p>"I didn't know this was gonna happen," she explained. "Bright side? Them chewing up my meat suit ought to buy you a few seconds. Seacrest out." Meg tilted her head back and opened her mouth.</p>
<p>Brooke turned her face slightly away, expecting a whirlwind of black smoke to come pouring out… but nothing happened.</p>
<p>Castiel squinted at Meg for a moment, then turned to the rest of them. "It's a spell, I think, from Crowley. Within these walls, you're locked inside your body."</p>
<p>Dean grinned at Meg. "Karma's a bitch, bitch."</p>
<p>Brooke glanced at him, trying not to smile.</p>
<p>They stood there, for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. Then Sam pulled the demon blade out of his pocket and handed it to Meg. "You can see them. Take this and hold them off. It's our best shot."</p>
<p>Meg looked at the blade for a moment, but didn't take it. "At Crowley," she said. "Take it and go. You kill the smarmy dick. I'll hold off the dogs." Then she turned towards Castiel and grabbed him by the back of his neck, pulling his face down towards her.</p>
<p>Brooke immediately felt the surge of Grace in her blood, hot and roiling.</p>
<p>Castiel grabbed Meg by the front of her jacket and threw her against the opposite wall of the hallway. Her body slammed into the wall, hard, but she managed to land on her feet. She was holding Castiel's angel blade.</p>
<p>"<em>Don't</em>," Castiel growled at her, his true form expanding in anger. He glanced at her hand, the one holding his blade, but did not seem to care. Then he turned towards Brooke and pulled her to him, kissing her, as if to reestablish to everyone in the room that he was Brooke's, and Brooke was his, and that was the end of the discussion.</p>
<p>When he pulled away from her, Brooke could not help but glance at Meg to see what her expression was. Meg was smiling at her, but it was not an evil smile. It was just a normal smile. "Clarence is a keeper," Meg told her. "Not even swayed by <em>me</em>."</p>
<p>Brooke said nothing, but smiled a little. Somehow, as much as she hated Meg, as much as Meg had been making eyes at Castiel all night, Brooke was starting to like the demon, just a little.</p>
<p>"Okay, gotta go," Meg told them all, holding up the angel blade.</p>
<p>"Is that gonna work on a hellhound?" Dean asked.</p>
<p>"Well, we're about to find out. Run."</p>
<p>They ran.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Walking down a staircase a little later, there was a blinding flash of light. Brooke screamed and stumbled, nearly blacking out, the Grace in her body <em>screeching</em>. She breathed hard, leaning against the railing, and looked up to see that Castiel was gone and Samuel Campbell was standing below them, an Enochian sigil drawn in blood on the wall beside him. She screamed at him, wordlessly, an automatic reaction that was a combination of the physical pain in her body and the mental trauma of having Castiel ripped away from her and out of her head so violently. Samuel glanced at her, but did not say anything in response to the scream.</p>
<p>"You sold us out?" Dean yelled at him.</p>
<p>And then Crowley appeared.</p>
<p>Brooke stared at him, utterly confused. Castiel and Crowley were working together, weren't they? Had she missed something? "What game are you playing?" she asked him, trying to communicate with him without tipping off Sam and Dean.</p>
<p>He made some snarky comments, went back and forth with Sam and Dean for a bit, winked at her, and then they were dragged off to individual cells. Brooke covered her face with her hand; the inside of her cell smelled like… shit, and death.</p>
<p>"Sam?" Dean called out, from his own cell.</p>
<p>"Yeah!" Brooke heard Sam yell back, though his voice was fainter, as he was on the far side of her.</p>
<p>There was a pause. "I'm standing in pee!" Dean yelled, sounding disgusted.</p>
<p>"Consider yourself lucky," Sam replied.</p>
<p>Brooke waited.</p>
<p>"Brooke!" Dean yelled, after a moment.</p>
<p>"I'm here, too," she called out.</p>
<p>"What's <em>your</em> cell like?" Dean asked her.</p>
<p>She glanced around and made a face. "Nasty."</p>
<p>"Great."</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>They had taken Dean away somewhere, and they came back for Sam later. But he escaped, somehow, and opened her cell door with a key stolen off one of the demons. "Let's go," he said, and she could see, in the half-light, that his teeth were red.</p>
<p>She squinted at him but didn't have time to ask questions. She followed him down the hall as he searched for Dean. Brooke could hear Dean's yells coming from somewhere, but the whole place was made of metal and sound echoed from everything. Sam burst through a pair of double doors and found Dean being beat up by a pair of something or other. They weren't demons—Brooke couldn't see anything scary underneath their skin. She pulled a blade out from a pocket and threw it at one of the creatures. It turned towards her and yelled, charging. "Fuck," she said, and dived away.</p>
<p>Something big and heavy slammed into the creature's head and Brooke looked up to see Sam holding a pipe that he'd just ripped off the wall. He turned to the other creature and smacked that one in the head, too, then buried the pipe into its chest.</p>
<p>"Holy shit," Brooke muttered, standing up. She went over and took her knife out of the creature's back.</p>
<p>She heard screaming coming from somewhere, and grit her teeth as psychic pain lanced across her brain. It wasn't an angel… It was…</p>
<p>"Meg," Brooke said, standing up straight again. "They're torturing Meg."</p>
<p>Sam and Dean stared at her like she was crazy, but they followed her as she ran down the halls. Brooke reached out, sensing the demon through the walls. Attaching her mind to a demon's this way, the way she did with Castiel, was horrifying. Brooke wanted to scream and fall to her knees and scratch her eyes out and stab a knife through her own brain. But she kept the connection, hunting, searching. Meg had been a bitch, but she'd stayed behind and fought off Hellhounds for them all.</p>
<p>The closer she got to the demon, the slower Brooke went along. Many hundreds of memories, all of them awful, were streaming through her head the nearer she drew to where Meg was being held. Memories of torturing and being tortured. Memories of Hell. She cut the connection at the entrance to the room where she knew Meg was strapped to a chair. She fell to her knees as Meg screamed from the other side of the door.</p>
<p>Dean gripped Brooke's shoulder and she stared up at him, hardly seeing him. He put his finger to his lips and gestured for her to stay where she was. She nodded, and sat there on her knees, her head bowed, her mind reeling.</p>
<p>Thirty seconds or so passed, and Sam and Dean returned with Meg's arm slung over one of Dean's shoulders. Brooke pushed herself to her feet, swaying a little. Meg stared at her, and Brooke stared back. The demon did not thank her aloud, but it was in her eyes. Brooke nodded, and they went on.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Trapping Crowley to bargain for Sam's soul had not gone according to plan. Nothing ever went according to plan, of course. Brooke, pinned the wall along with the Winchester brothers, stared at the crumpled heap on the floor that was Meg. They should never have let Meg into the devil's trap to kill Crowley in the first place. Crowley was craftier than they had given him credit for. Brooke still wasn't entirely sure whether Crowley was still working with Castiel in secret, or whether he actually planned to kill them all, but the pain her body as she was held to the wall was real enough.</p>
<p>There was a gust of wind and the sound of wings, and Brooke was bathed in Castiel's light. "Leave them alone," he ordered, staring Crowley down.</p>
<p>Brooke looked down upon her angel from the wall and smiled.</p>
<p>Crowley began his monologue as Meg rose from the ground. She stopped as the demon blade was aimed at her face.</p>
<p>Castiel was holding something, a large knapsack.</p>
<p>"Hey," said Crowley, grinning at Castiel, "what's in the gift bag?"</p>
<p>Castiel reached inside and pulled out a very old, weathered, human skull. "You are," he said.</p>
<p>Crowley's face fell, and he stared at the skull, then at Castiel. "Not possible."</p>
<p>"You didn't hide your bones as well as you should have," Castiel said.</p>
<p>Crowley turned away from Meg, holding the demon blade in the crook of his arm, and clapped. "Cookie for you."</p>
<p>Castiel threw the skull back into the bag and dropped the bag loudly onto the floor. "Can you restore Sam's soul… or not?"</p>
<p>Crowley stared at Castiel, then snapped his fingers. Brooke slid down the wall to the floor, along with Sam and Dean, gasping for breath.</p>
<p>Crowley smiled at them all. "If I can help out in any other—</p>
<p>"Answer him!" Dean yelled.</p>
<p>Crowley dropped his hands, and his whole body seemed to deflate. He glanced around, then looked at Castiel, biting his lip in nervousness. "I can't," he said.</p>
<p>Without missing a beat, Castiel turned and looked down at the bag of bones, and it was set alight. In the same moment, fire engulfed Crowley's body, and he screamed as the flames overtook him. In only a moment or two, he was no more, and all that was left was a blackened skeleton.</p>
<p>Brooke stared at the spot where the skeleton was slowly turning to ash, a little overwhelmed by how quickly everything had happened. Sam was the fastest to recover and bent down to pick up the demon blade. Meg disappeared in the same moment, with a smile.</p>
<p>Dean looked around. "Well, she's smart, I'll give her that," he said. "I was gonna kill her, too. Course…" He turned and grinned at Castiel. "I would have given you an hour with her, first," he said, and then paused and turned to Brooke. "Or maybe you. You swing that way?"</p>
<p>Brooke rolled her eyes.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke had waited for Castiel to finish killing all the monsters left inside the abandoned warehouse. Factory? Whatever the building was. Dean had left without Sam. Sam who was still soulless. Brooke paced around and around outside, waiting. The sunlight was strange; she felt it should be raining. It would fit the mood better.</p>
<p>Castiel <em>whooshed</em> back outside, appearing before her. "Crowley isn't actually dead," he said, with no preamble.</p>
<p>Brooke stared up at the sky. "Of course he isn't." She sighed, and looked down at Castiel. "So how much of all that was fake? I'm guessing the bones weren't his, if he's not really dead."</p>
<p>"No, the bones were not his."</p>
<p>"So you just… desecrated some other poor guy's grave and burned his bones?"</p>
<p>"Whoever it was had been long dead," Castiel said. "He has been in Heaven or Hell for hundreds of years. Burning his bones didn't disturb him at all, whoever he was."</p>
<p>Brooke came forward and touched Castiel's face. "I know, I'm just annoyed."</p>
<p>"I would have told you all this sooner," he murmured. "But there was no time. I wasn't expecting Samuel to be ready with an angelic sigil. That wasn't part of the plan."</p>
<p>Brooke nodded. "No, I imagine not." She sighed.</p>
<p>Castiel brought his forehead down to hers, automatically, in response to whatever turmoil had caused her to sigh. They stood like that for a time.</p>
<p>"Cass… What if you absorb half the souls of Purgatory and… change?"</p>
<p>He didn't answer for a moment, but finally gave a sigh of his own. "I won't change," he said.</p>
<p>"How do you know?" She pulled away to look at him. "Twenty-million souls? I know you're an angel, but… that's a lot of souls to absorb, even for you. And they're <em>monster</em> souls."</p>
<p>"I know I'll be strong enough because I <em>have</em> to be. I <em>have</em> to be strong enough to kill Raphael, and then I <em>have </em>to be strong enough to release the souls back into Purgatory."</p>
<p>Brooke shook her head. "That's not very reassuring."</p>
<p>He looked at her sadly. "It's the best I've got," he said.</p>
<p>Brooke nodded, and they stood quietly for a while in each other's company. "Next time," said Brooke, "tell Crowley not to pretend so hard to be the bad guy. He coulda fooled me."</p>
<p>"Yes," Castiel muttered. "I'll have to speak to him about that." He pulled an angel blade from his coat pocket. "Here," he said, handing it to her.</p>
<p>She stared at it. "I thought Meg took yours."</p>
<p>"She did. While I was gone, getting Crowley's fake bones, I procured two more. One for me, and one for you. I would… feel better if you had one. The warding on your ribs has kept you hidden from my enemies this long, but Raphael grows in strength and numbers every day. He may find a way to look past the warding."</p>
<p>Brooke took hold of the angel blade very carefully, as if afraid that dropping it would cause an explosion. She hated the feel of it in her hand, hated knowing that this blade could kill Castiel quite easily, in the hands of someone who knew how to fight angels. It was like holding something poisonous, or vile. Something <em>wrong</em>.</p>
<p>"I don't know why you object to holding an angel blade <em>now</em>," Castiel said. "You took mine from me once and threatened me with it."</p>
<p>Brooke smiled tightly, remembering when Castiel had not wanted her to come along on the mission to kill the Devil. He had been overbearing, overprotective, thinking she could not handle herself in the face of real danger, so she'd stolen the angel blade from his coat and rested the tip under his chin, telling him to back off.</p>
<p>"I was never really going to use it on you," she said, quietly. "I would rather stab <em>myself</em> with it first."</p>
<p>"Don't do that, either," he warned.</p>
<p>She shook her head and twirled the blade around in her hand, getting used to its weight. Then she flung the knife down into the dirt where it sunk a few inches and stood upright. She closed the distance between herself and Castiel and pulled him into a hug—something that, all things considered, they didn't do very often. Kissing? Yes. Intense staring? Yes. Angry sex? Apparently, yes. But hugging… Not really.</p>
<p>Castiel stood, awkwardly, for a moment, but recovered and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. She closed her eyes and stood still, in his embrace, trying to remember what it was like to see him before he'd given her part of his Grace. Trying to remember that awe and wonderment. She could not quite reach it, but this feeling, now, was enough. He was still her protector, his light still boundless and beautiful.</p>
<p>She felt him grow shy, just a little, at such purely romantic thoughts. He did not know what to do with such gentleness. But he continued to hold her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Six</em>
</p>
<p>Brooke hadn't seen Castiel in over a month, not since right after Sam had gotten his soul back, and he hadn't called her at all. It had been over a month of radio silence, and that was worrying, especially considering the fact that Raphael was after his ass. He had told her that he wouldn't be able to be around all the time, and she knew that being chased around and attacked by an Archangel sort of put dating a human to the wayside, so she didn't really mind. But she worried, and she wondered, and she kept her angel blade close.</p>
<p>She spoke to the boys at least once a week, but she did not work with them, thinking that it might be harder for Raphael or his followers to track all three of them down if one of them was somewhere else. So she Hunted alone. She called her mother occasionally, to check in, but did want to get Rebecca involved with her in case Raphael came after her. It was a lonely month, but she got through it as she always had.</p>
<p>On a particularly stormy night, she rolled over in her bed, trying to sleep through the sound of the rain and thunder. She thought of Castiel—how it always stormed when they were intimate. She smiled sleepily at the thought, and snuggled deeper into the covers… and then she heard the telltale <em>whoosh</em> of angel wings. She opened her eyes and smiled again, expecting Cass, but even as she began to sit up, she knew it was not Castiel. This angel's presence felt different, though not hostile. Still, she gripped the angel blade beneath her pillow and pulled it out as she sat up.</p>
<p>"Relax," the angel said. "I'm not here to hurt you; I'm here to protect you. My name is Balthazar."</p>
<p>Brooke turned and flipped on the bedside lamp. A disheveled blonde angel wearing a shirt that exposed most of his chest was standing at the foot of the bed. The name Balthazar was vaguely familiar to Brooke, being a name that was spread throughout Castiel's memories and thoughts.</p>
<p>"I don't have time to explain," he said, moving towards her. "I need to get you to Sam and Dean."</p>
<p>"Yes, you do," Brooke corrected. "If you're really a friend and not an enemy, then just shove the information into my head like Cass does." She held out a hand for him to touch, to initiate the mental link between them.</p>
<p>The angel shook his head. "I don't think you understand exactly how that works. The mental connection that you and Cassie share is… special—though I loathe that word. Any angel could connect to you that way, yes, but most of them wouldn't <em>want</em> to. If I opened that mental connection with you, you and I would become connected the same way that you and Castiel are connected, and I'm not sure there would be a way to sever it. So, unless you want to suddenly fall in love with me, I really shouldn't go tampering with your brain." Balthazar bent down and gripped her shoulder before she could react, and suddenly she was standing in Bobby Singer's living room.</p>
<p>It was storming here, too; that was the first thing that Brooke noticed. The second thing she noticed was that she was barefoot, in only her night clothes, and holding her angel blade. Sam and Dean stared at her, then at Balthazar, demanding to know what he was doing there. Balthazar did not answer the question, instead going on about the movie <em>The Godfather</em>, and zipping around Bobby's house collecting ingredients for a spell.</p>
<p>"Where's Cass?" Sam demanded, watching as Balthazar scrambled here and there around Bobby's living room and kitchen.</p>
<p>Brooke stood silently, too flustered to chip in.</p>
<p>"Oh, Cassie?" Balthazar said. "He is deep, <em>deep</em> underground. So, good old Raphie put out a hit list on every last Samaritan who helped our dear Cass—including all three of <em>you</em>. And so much more importantly, me." The angel turned to continue fiddling with whatever spell he was doing. "See, he wants to draw Cass out in the open."</p>
<p>"You expect us to just believe you?" Sam asked, stepping towards Balthazar as if he was planning on stabbing him with something. Dean followed his brother's lead and they both moved toward the angel, shoulder to shoulder.</p>
<p>Brooke moved closer to him as well, but placed herself between the angel and the Winchesters. They stared at her in shock and annoyance. She shrugged at them. She trusted Balthazar insofar as she had never sensed ill will about him from Castiel's mind, though she didn't know if that was enough of a reason <em>to</em> trust him.</p>
<p>"Oh, don't," Balthazar said, ignoring the threat in their movements. He was drawing a sigil onto the window. "You'll go where I throw you, either way."</p>
<p>"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean demanded.</p>
<p>The lights in the house began to flicker. Balthazar looked up at them, and glanced at the three humans. "And that is all the time we have, lady and gentlemen." He moved toward the three of them, riffling around in his coat for something. "Where is it?" he whispered to himself, and pulled the coat away from his body to gain better access to his pockets—revealing, as he did so, the giant bloody wound in his chest.</p>
<p>"What happened there?" Dean asked, making a sympathetic face.</p>
<p>Balthazar glanced down at it as if he'd forgotten it existed. "Oh, garish, I know. You see, Uncle Raphie sent one of his nastiest to handle me. I'm flattered, actually—and down a lung, at the moment, but that's all right." He pulled a key, hanging on a long keychain, out of his pocket and handed it to Sam. "Here's for you," he said.</p>
<p>"What am I supposed to do with this?" Sam asked, dangling it in front of Balthazar's face.</p>
<p>"<em>Run with it</em>," the angel replied, staring at him. He glanced away for a half a second and was suddenly flung across the room, crashing heavily into a stack of books.</p>
<p>At the same moment, Brooke pressed a hand to her head in pain as another angel appeared in Bobby's house. This angel—Virgil—was not hiding himself from Brooke as much as Balthazar had been, so his presence, along with Balthazar's was causing her some amount of pain. One of the perks of Castiel's Grace was that it shielded her from the pain that witnessing an angel's true form used to cause her, for she could see them without going blind, but they still overwhelmed her senses. For the most part, she had grown so used to being around Castiel that she hardly noticed him as being much different from any other person. This also meant that <em>other</em> angels did not cause her so much overstimulation, but when they were angry, or in pain, they could still stab through the shield of the Grace in her body and mind. And that's what Virgil was doing now.</p>
<p>Brooke took a steadying breath and gripped her angel blade tightly, preparing to fight Virgil off, but before she could even raise her arm, she heard Balthazar yell, "<em>RUN!</em>"</p>
<p>She was flung off her feet, along with Sam and Dean, and crashed through the window upon which Balthazar had drawn the sigil—</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke landed, hard, onto asphalt, skinning one arm in the process. She grimaced and looked up to find herself staring at the Impala. She stood up, gingerly, brushing gravel and dirt out of the raw skin on her arm and glanced into the car. No one was inside.</p>
<p>"Hey!" a voice called behind her.</p>
<p>She spun around, gripping her angel blade tightly, and saw a large man coming towards her, carrying a bucket of… something.</p>
<p>"How did you get here?" he demanded, still approaching her. "Get outta here! You can't be on set!" He glanced down at her hand. "Did you <em>steal</em> a <em>prop</em>?"</p>
<p>Dean suddenly appeared at her side, making her jump. "Uhh," he began, nervously. "She's with us."</p>
<p>The man looked at Dean, then at Sam, who had come with him, then back at her. He studied her for a moment, then he looked at Dean again. "She's with <em>you</em>?" he repeated.</p>
<p>"Uhh, yeah. Uhh…" Dean glanced awkwardly at her. "This—this is Brooke. She's… a fan. It's—she won a contest. To come on set with us." He smiled and laughed forcefully.</p>
<p>Brooke also forced herself to smile, trying to look like she belonged there, despite the fact that she was in her pajamas, barefoot, and her arm was bleeding. Curiously, she poked herself in the leg with the angel blade. It did not hurt. It didn't even feel right; it was too light. She looked at it, felt its weight in her hands, ran a finger along the flat of the blade. "It's plastic," she murmured.</p>
<p>The man holding the bucket stared at her like she was insane. "Of <em>course</em> it's plastic." He gave her a once-over, noticing her bleeding arm and bare feet. "You should get that looked at," he said, pointing at her arm. Then he walked began to slop some sort of brown liquid over the windshield of the Impala.</p>
<p>"Hey!" Dean yelled.</p>
<p>The man turned and stared at him.</p>
<p>Dean glanced at the Impala, then turned his head and saw three other Impala's all in various states of destruction. "I feel sick," he muttered. "I'm gonna be sick…"</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke walked with Sam and Dean as they wandered through the facades of fake buildings and the trailers of actors. They had managed to get someone to clean and bandage her arm, and someone had found a pair of shoes for her from… somewhere, but she was still in her pajamas, and she was cold. She folded her arms tightly against the chill but didn't comment on it. There were more important things to be focusing on right then.</p>
<p>"I wanna go home," Dean said to her and Sam. "I feel like this whole place is bad-touching me."</p>
<p>"Yeah, I know," Sam replied. "Me too. So, what do you think? Cass?"</p>
<p>"Didn't Balthazar say Cass was in hiding?" Brooke asked. "What if asking him to come get us draws Raphael to him—or to <em>all </em>of us?"</p>
<p>"Do you have a better idea?" Dean said.</p>
<p>Brooke sighed and nodded in acknowledgement of his point. Balthazar had sent them to a different universe, it seemed, and the only way she could think of to get back home as quickly as possible was with the help of another angel.</p>
<p>They stepped beside a facade with a half-open door in it. Dean bowed his head to pray. "Dear Castiel, who art, maybe, running his ass away from Heaven… we pray that you have your ears on."</p>
<p>Brooke stared at him, trying not to laugh. <em>What kind of prayer is that?</em></p>
<p>Dean's head was still bowed. "So…" he continued. "Breaker, breaker…?" He opened his eyes; nothing had happened.</p>
<p>Then Brooke looked through the half-open door and saw Castiel standing in a different part of the outside of the studio. He was looking at them, his hands in his pockets.</p>
<p>Brooke took off running towards him and he stared at her as if he had never seen before—and was a little frightened of her. She slowed down at his expression, studying his face. He <em>looked</em> normal. She reached out to him with her mind, wondering what was wrong—and was met with… nothing. Nothing at all.</p>
<p>Brooke stopped dead, now a foot away from Castiel, and a flood of ice water ran through her veins. She swallowed, unaware of Sam and Dean as they reached her. She slowly raised her hand, to touch his face, and he backed away from her, putting his hands up. Then he looked at Sam and Dean. "Who is this chick?" he demanded.</p>
<p>Brooke felt as if she'd been slapped in the face. "He's not Cass…" she murmured.</p>
<p>Dean glanced at Castiel, then looked at her. "What?"</p>
<p>"He's <em>not</em> Castiel," she repeated, loudly, glaring up at Dean as if the fact that there was a fake Castiel standing before her was somehow his fault. "He's… he's just another actor, I'm guessing."</p>
<p>She, Sam, and Dean all turned to look at the man who was not Castiel, though he looked exactly like him. Brooke thought she might throw up.</p>
<p>"Uh, guys, are you okay?" the man asked, and his voice was strangely high and squeaky. "What—who's this?" He gestured at Brooke, while undoing his tie.</p>
<p>Dean stared at the man as if he was seeing a ghost. "It's… Brooke. She—she won a contest. Bring a Fan to Work Day." His voice was faint.</p>
<p>"Must have missed the memo," the Castiel-clone said, glancing awkwardly at Brooke.</p>
<p>Brooke stared at him, wanting to cry and punch him in the face at the same time. "Who are you?" she demanded.</p>
<p>He stared at her. "You know my character's name, but not <em>my</em> name?" He scoffed. "I'm Misha Collins."</p>
<p>Dean glanced her and Sam, and then he started to walk away. "What's with the names around here?" he said. "Misha? <em>Jensen</em>? I just wanna dig my finger into my brain and scratch 'til we're back in Kansas."</p>
<p>Brooke, who was still feeling like she wanted to cry, muttered, "At least you guys are actors in this thing. Ca—<em>Misha</em> didn't even know who I was. <em>No one</em> did. I'm not… part of this show, I guess."</p>
<p>"<em>That's</em> what's bothering you?" Dean replied. "I thought you liked to stay <em>out</em> of the spotlight."</p>
<p>She shook her head. "It's not that, it's… It feels like Castiel just slapped me in the face. Even though that wasn't really Cass…"</p>
<p>"Don't worry, we'll get home," Sam chimed in, putting an arm around her for a moment. "Then we'll all get to see the real Cass again."</p>
<p><em>If he's not dead</em>, she thought, darkly, to herself.</p>
<p>Sam stopped. "Hey, look," he said, pointing to a gigantic RV parked on the asphalt. "J. Ackles." The name was taped to the door.</p>
<p>Dean pointed to himself. "That's fake me," he said.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Sam agreed.</p>
<p>Dean looked at the RV, spreading his hands to take it in. "This must be fake mine."</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke wandered around the inside of the RV as Sam and Dean tried to discover more about the man named Jensen Ackles. She found a jacket crumpled up on the couch and held it up in front of Dean, wiggling it to ask if she could use it.</p>
<p>"What?" he asked, forgetting that he was, in fact, the man named Jensen Ackles. "Oh. Uh. Right. Uh, yeah, sure, I don't care."</p>
<p>She smiled and pulled it on. Wherever they were, it was cold outside, and she was also braless and in her pajamas, which had been sort of awkward as they'd been wandering around set. She flopped down on the couch and waited for Sam and Dean to come up with some sort of plan, listening to them but not finding much to contribute. It was Dean who came up with their means of escape. They would perform the same spell that Balthazar had, and use it on the same window through which they had entered this strange alternate universe.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Sam's—Jared Padalecki's—house was fit for a king. Brooke sat awkwardly on a couch, feeling as though she'd ruin it just by sitting on it. And Jared's wife, who was the woman who played Ruby on the show in this weird universe, looked at her as if she, too, thought that Brooke was going to ruin the couch. Brooke smiled awkwardly at her.</p>
<p>"Who is this?" the woman demanded, staring at Sam, and then at Dean, and then back at her.</p>
<p>Brooke didn't thing the "bring a fan to work" thing was going to work now that it was nighttime and they were at Jared Padalecki's <em>house</em>. Sam and Dean stared at fake Ruby, speechless.</p>
<p>"I'm…" Brooke began, searching her brain, wildly. Being a Hunter usually meant that you were good at lying, but she didn't think other Hunters had been transported to strange alternate universes where their friends were TV stars. "I'm De—Jensen's… g-girlfriend."</p>
<p>Dean turned slowly on the spot and stared at her. She stared back, shrugging.</p>
<p>Dean plastered a smile onto his face and turned back to fake Ruby, his eyes very large. "Yyyyes," he said. "This is Brooke. Myyy… girlfriend."</p>
<p>Fake Ruby stared at Brooke. "Well," she said. "Nice to meet you." But she did not sound genuine.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Brooke replied, faintly. "You too…"</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke had not been shoved off set once everyone else had begun trickling in that morning. They'd all been driven to the airport earlier to pick up what they would need for the spell to return them all home, and gotten to set very early in the morning to avoid everyone else. But things had taken longer than they would have thought and suddenly Brooke had found herself escorted off the set by some men with security jackets on. Dean had tried the "she's my girlfriend" line, but, apparently, girlfriends were not allowed on set.</p>
<p>She'd seen the man named Misha Collins for just a second or two before he'd passed her completely. He had not noticed her, but even looking at the side of him had given Brooke unpleasant goosebumps. <em>Cass, you better be alive when we get back</em>, she had thought, <em>so I can just… touch you. Make sure you're real.</em></p>
<p>Later, she snuck back on set to help Sam and Dean with the spell to to get back to the real world—their world. A few minutes later, all three of them were picking themselves up off the floor, still in the studio, after smashing through the window. It had not worked. There was no magic in this universe.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>They sat in Jensen Ackles' trailer. "No demons," Dean said, "no Hell, no Heaven… No God?" He looked up at Sam.</p>
<p>"Looks like," Sam replied. "Even better? No angels."</p>
<p>Brooke flinched and closed her eyes, thinking of Cass.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>The actor named Misha Collins—the one that Brooke was fairly certain she was going to have nightmares about for stealing Castiel's face—had been murdered. Brooke stood with Sam and Dean as they spoke to the man who had witnessed it all.</p>
<p>"The voice said for Virgil to return tomorrow at the place where he crossed over at the time of the crossing, and Raphael would reach through the window and take him and the key home."</p>
<p>Brooked glanced at the boys, who glanced at each other, and at her.</p>
<p>"Okay," said Dean. "Hey, thank you." He pulled out his—Jensen Ackles'—wallet and gave the man some money.</p>
<p>Sam fidgeted. "If Virgil gets back with that key, Cass is dead and our world is toast."</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>"You know," said Dean, later, when they were back on set the next day, "if we drop Virgil, get the key… I mean, this might be it. We might be stuck here."</p>
<p>Sam looked at him. "No, we'll figure out a way back."</p>
<p>"We'd <em>better</em>," Brooke muttered.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>They had not anticipated Virgil returning to set with <em>guns</em>. The angel was wreaking havoc, shooting anyone he saw, to reach the window through he which he was to return to the normal world. Dean was on him like a dog, knocking him to the ground and punching him in the face so many times that he was knocked out. Sam riffled through his pockets and got the key. Brooke mainly stayed out of the way. In a situation like this, she was a bit of a third wheel, so she stayed to the sidelines so as not to be a distraction. Her job was to keep an eye on the window. She glanced at it again; the sigil was glowing.</p>
<p>"Guys!" she yelled. "Raphael!"</p>
<p>"Run!" Sam shouted.</p>
<p>All three of them began to turn away, but they were yanked by an invisible force through the window.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke stood up, wincing at the shards of glass stuck in her hands and knees. She was especially glad, now, that someone at the studio had given her shoes or her feet would have been torn to shreds, probably.</p>
<p>There was a woman standing before her. Sam and Dean stood on either side of her.</p>
<p>It was not a woman. It was Raphael. The Archangel's presence penetrated the shield that Castiel's Grace put up around her mind. Brooke resisted the urge to press her glass-infested hands to her forehead in pain, which diminished slowly as the shield was put back properly into place.</p>
<p>"Raphael?" Dean said, looking the angel up and down. "Nice meat suit. Dude looks like a lady," he muttered.</p>
<p>Raphael brought his hand up and squeezed. Brooke cried out and fell to her knees in pain. She could feel the Grace in her body scrambling to protect her from whatever Raphael was doing to her insides.</p>
<p>"The <em>key</em>," the Archangel demanded, and picked up what Sam had dropped as he fell to the ground.</p>
<p>Suddenly, Balthazar appeared, spouting off about how the key was a fake, how he'd sent Sam and Dean and Brooke into that alternate universe as a diversion while he searched for the weapons of Heaven.</p>
<p>Brooke did not care about any of it. It was angel politics, something she cared about only insofar as it directly related to Castiel. And since he was not here, it did not relate to him.</p>
<p>And then he <em>was </em>there, the sound of his approach enfolding her mind like a siren song. "Step away from him, Raphael," Castiel said. And it was his voice, his true voice. His true form.</p>
<p>Brooke forgot all else around her. After seeing the <em>abomination</em> that had been Misha Collins—a doppelgänger of Castiel in only looks and nothing more—seeing the <em>real</em> Castiel was a balm for her soul. The Grace in her blood <em>sang</em>; she felt its hum as it called to its twin inside Castiel.</p>
<p>"I have the weapons now," Castiel continued, staring down the Archangel. "Their power is with me." And his voice was singular, his message clear, his tone final. He was power and strength and focus, and Brooke felt herself <em>pulled</em> to him like a magnet. She stared in awe as he spread his wings, all splendid light and energy, and she basked in the glow of his wings like a woman who not seen the sun in years. She smiled, tears coursing down her face—simply happy that it was truly him and not some horrible facsimile.</p>
<p>"Castiel," said the Archangel, and his voice, for Brooke could hear his true voice through the woman vessel, was surprised and a little fearful. As it should be. For Castiel was boundless and beautiful and imposing and terrifying.</p>
<p>Castiel closed the distance between himself and Raphael. "If you don't want to die tonight, back off," he warned, and his word was true, and it was final.</p>
<p>Raphael disappeared.</p>
<p>Balthazar said goodbye, and he was gone, as well.</p>
<p>Castiel approached the three of them quickly. He placed a hand on either of the boys' shoulders, and looked at Brooke, urging her, silently, to grab hold of him. She did, and felt the Grace surge through her fingers.</p>
<p>She blinked and they were back in Bobby's living room, complete with the broken window.</p>
<p>"Wait, Cass, you were in on this?" Sam demanded, immediately. "Using us as a diversion."</p>
<p>Castiel had moved away from them, his back to them. "It was Balthazar's plan," he confessed. He paused. "I would have done the same thing."</p>
<p>"That's not comforting, Cass!" Dean admonished.</p>
<p>Brooke shrank from their voices, their anger towards Castiel, and moved, instead, closer to him. Castiel turned and saw her approach. His eyes were like ice, distant and cold. She stopped.</p>
<p>"When will I be able to make you understand?" he growled, flicking his gaze up to Sam and Dean. "If I lose against Raphael, we all lose <em>everything</em>."</p>
<p>"Yeah, Cass, we know the stakes," Dean said. "That's about all you've told us!"</p>
<p>Castiel looked down, the perfect picture of regret, though Brooke could see the strength and resolve coming off of him in waves. "I'm sorry about all this," he murmured. "I'll explain when I can." He glanced at Brooke, and disappeared.</p>
<p>Immediately, she cried out in anguish, reaching for the place where he had been a moment before.</p>
<p>A strange sensation filled her head, her body, as if the world were suddenly made of molasses, everything slowing down to a crawl. Sam and Dean, beside her, stopped moving entirely, and she felt stuck, as well. Castiel reappeared, standing very close to her. He touched her face and she found herself able to move freely again, though the rest of the world was still moving at a snail's pace. The sound of the rain had stopped.</p>
<p>"What—</p>
<p>He put a finger to her lips. "I don't have time," he murmured. "I'm sorry." He gazed down at her with sad eyes. brushing her jawline with his fingers. She felt her arm, and her hands, and her knees tingle as he healed the place where she had skinned her arm and fallen on glass.</p>
<p>He placed his forehead against hers, and a rush of information was imparted to her, and then he vanished again. The sound of the rain began, and Sam and Dean moved and spoke around her. Brooke stood still, healed, but concerned.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For anyone wondering why Brooke was not a part of the "fake show" during the episode, "French Mistake," it will be explained in the next chapter, and I'll elaborate more about it in another author's note, then, too.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, I just want to say that Brooke only existing in one universe isn't some Mary-Sue thing. I got the idea of her being weirdly unique because she's an OC, meaning she's not canon to the real story/the TV show. So it didn't make sense to me for her to be included in all these different/alternate universes. This version of events, with her included, is literally an AU, but the show deals so much with alternate realities/universes, that I thought I would just throw a little thing in there about Brooke only existing in this world. I hope all that makes sense. I'm not trying to make her super "special" or something; it just kind of goes with the story for her to only exist in this one place, because I put her there.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Seven</em>
</p>
<p>Brooke was taking a rare day off from Hunting or traveling, opting instead to rent a motel room for the day and simply rest. It was a luxury she didn't give herself very often. It was a luxury that <em>no</em> Hunter gave themselves very often. She planned to spend the whole day and night sleeping, or at least lounging around. Watch some TV. Read some crappy magazines. A good day of doing nothing.</p>
<p>It was late afternoon when an unknown number showed up on her phone. She flipped it open. "Brooke Harris," she said, unsuccessfully stifling a yawn.</p>
<p>"I—I'm sorry," Castiel's voice said on the other end. "Did I wake you?"</p>
<p>Brooke sat upright in the bed. "Cass," she breathed. "No, you didn't wake me."</p>
<p>He was silent for a few moments. Then he asked, with a strange gentleness in his tone, "Do you have some time?"</p>
<p>"Do I—" Brooke shook her head. "For <em>you</em>? Castiel, I <em>always</em> have time for you. Even if I didn't, you'd just whoosh in here, demanding I go with you somewhere." She laughed.</p>
<p>"Yes…" he replied. "I suppose I would."</p>
<p>Brooke stared at the far wall, though she wasn't really looking at it. "Are you all right?"</p>
<p>"No," he answered her, honestly. And she was surprised by his answer. They did not have secrets between them, but that did not mean that Castiel openly admitted when he was upset by something. Usually, he would simply <em>act</em> on the feeling, and if he could not, he would push it down. "Where are you?" he asked.</p>
<p>She told him.</p>
<p>A moment later, he appeared, standing in her motel room. He slowly lowered the phone from his ear and stuffed it into his coat pocket. He stood and looked at her for a long time without speaking, his eyes holding some pain that she could not decipher.</p>
<p>She reached out to him with her mind, but he shied away from her. They both knew that, if she wanted to, she could simply keep going, sift through his memories until she found what was upsetting him. But she chose to stop. There were no secrets. He would tell her, when he was ready. Whatever it was had to be bad, for she had never seen him look so shaken.</p>
<p>She patted the bed, inviting him to sit down. He hesitated for a moment, and then relented, and came to sit near her. She did not reach for him, did not want to read his mind accidentally. Of course, she <em>was</em>reading his mind. Always, when he was near her, there was a steady stream of Enochian filtering into her brain. Most of those thoughts, however, were not the ones at the forefront of his mind.</p>
<p>Castiel sat on the bed, for a time, without speaking, and without looking at her. She knew he was gathering his thoughts. Finally, he turned his head to look at her. "Do you remember what I showed you the last time we spoke?"</p>
<p>"Yes," she said, sadly. "Did you go through with it? Is that why you're so upset."</p>
<p>"It's more complicated than that," he replied. "I… ordered Balthazar to go back and un-sink the Titanic, as I told you I would. And he did. And… the entire world changed because of it. This I had expected, and I thought that I was prepared for whatever changes would come about from it…" He sighed.</p>
<p>Brooke studied him. "There's a<em> but</em> here, isn't there?"</p>
<p>"One of the Fates, the three sisters in mythology, grew angry with me for the changes that had happened due to the Titanic never having sunk. She threatened to kill Sam and Dean if I did not reverse what I had ordered Balthazar to do."</p>
<p>Brooke nodded, outwardly calm, though fear lanced through her. "Did you…?" She did not finish the question. She did not know whether to ask him <em>Did you reverse it? </em>or <em>Did you let them die?</em> She was afraid to know which answer he would give, afraid that Castiel—her Castiel—had killed the Winchesters.</p>
<p>"I ordered Balthazar to go back again and allow the Titanic to sink," Castiel said. He had heard her thoughts, felt her fear, and was ashamed. He was also incredibly sad.</p>
<p>Brooke shook her head. "Then why do you feel this way? You did the right thing, in the end."</p>
<p>Castiel reached out a hand and cupped her face. "When I ordered Balthazar to un-sink the Titanic, one of the changes that occurred was that <em>you</em> were never born."</p>
<p>Brooke's heart skipped a beat. "Oh," she breathed.</p>
<p>"I also recall that, when Balthazar sent the three of you into that alternate universe where Sam and Dean were on a TV show, no one knew who you were." He was staring at her like she was about to die, and she could feel heartbreak coming from him.</p>
<p>"Just tell me what you're trying to tell me," she said, not sure if she could take anymore of this beating around the bush.</p>
<p>Castiel took a breath. "I went looking, after I reverted the timeline back to normal. I moved between different universes, different realities. I exhausted myself, searching."</p>
<p>"Searching for <em>what</em>?" Brooke asked, with a horrible sinking feeling beginning in her stomach.</p>
<p>"For <em>you</em>," he said, softly. "I looked <em>everywhere</em>. You were… nowhere. Nowhere but <em>here</em>, in <em>this</em> universe, in <em>this</em> reality. You don't exist <em>anywhere else</em>. You're… an anomaly. You, your family, your ancestors—you don't <em>exist</em>. The only <em>you</em> that exists is <em>here</em>. And when I—when I caused the un-sinking of the Titanic, I <em>destroyed</em> you." His hand, still on her cheek, was trembling. "I'm so sorry," he said, fiercely.</p>
<p>She placed her own hand on top of his. "Cass, it doesn't matter," she said, though she was shaken by this information, all the same. "You made everything right again. I'm not dead… Rather, I exist again."</p>
<p>"Yes," he agreed, and pulled her into a hug. "And I understand, now, why the prophecy states that I must protect you. Because there is only <em>one</em> of you, anywhere."</p>
<p>Brooke laughed, though she wasn't feeling very joyful. "I know it must have been painful for you, but… This doesn't impact me as strongly as you might think. To <em>me</em>, there's <em>always</em> been only one of me."</p>
<p>"Angels are aware of other universes, other realities," Castiel tried to explain. "We are not all-knowing, as God is, but we are aware of the fact and existence of other universes. We know that there are hundreds of ourselves, hundreds of Heavens, hundreds of Earths. We know this as a human knows breath, or movement." Castiel still had his arms wrapped around her, and was murmuring into her hair. "So, to come across a human who only exists in <em>one</em> universe, one reality… I don't know how to take that. I don't know what it means. To understand that <em>I</em> am the only one of my selves to know you… It is a strange feeling."</p>
<p>Brooke allowed herself to be held by Castiel, feeling the warmth radiating from him, feeling the Grace inside herself hum in tandem with his. She thought about all he had said, and was unsure how to take it. Despite being thrown into an alternate universe with Sam and Dean weeks ago, and knowing, even before then, of the existence of other universes, she had never spent time thinking about things like this. There were always more important things to be doing, to be thinking about. Where was the next Hunt? Where would she sleep that night? As a Hunter, she tended to take things one step at a time, and had only begun to think of things larger than herself after meeting Castiel and the Winchesters.</p>
<p>She wondered what would happen if she met some other version of Castiel from some other universe. Would that Castiel recognize her, somehow? Would he feel his own Grace in her blood? Was Grace the same from universe to universe? She ceased these types of thoughts, for they were unanswerable, and she'd drive herself crazy thinking about them.</p>
<p>She pulled away from Castiel's embrace. "Listen to me," she said, quietly. "Everything you've learned about me—the fact that, somehow, there's only one of me—it doesn't matter." She studied his face. "You've got bigger things to worry about, don't you? Stopping Raphael. Gathering souls. Trying to keep Sam and Dean from figuring out your idiotic plan." She smiled.</p>
<p>Castiel rolled his eyes at her last comment, but nodded. "You're right. I should be focusing on stopping Raphael. As long as I know you're alive, in this reality, that's enough." He kissed her.</p>
<p>She trickled a small, mischievous thought into his mind. He pulled back from her.</p>
<p>"I—I don't have that much time," he said. "I need to return to Heaven—</p>
<p>She poked a finger into his chest. "Hey, you killed me, remember? I think you owe me one."</p>
<p>He stared at her in shock, and a pang of sorrow twinged in her mind from his own. "I can't believe you would… use that against me like this. Even <em>say</em> something like that. Trust me, I feel guilty enough as it is."</p>
<p>Quickly, she cupped his face in her hands, shaking her head. "I'm sorry; it was too soon. It was meant to be funny. Remember, I don't… I don't recall <em>not</em> existing, so this isn't as painful for me. I—I wasn't thinking."</p>
<p>He stared at her some more, his mind slowing down again, calming. Then he lifted his chin and his expression changed.</p>
<p>She eyed him curiously, a little warily.</p>
<p>"Perhaps I should teach you to think before you speak," he murmured, running his thumb along her jaw.</p>
<p>She shivered at his touch, almost losing her grip on reality as he flooded her mind with ideas. "I thought you said you didn't have time," she said, breathily. "Don't you have an army to run?"</p>
<p>"I'm the Commander," he said. "I can <em>make</em> time."</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>The next time Brooke saw Castiel was weeks later. He caught her, once again, while she was driving, and sounded very agitated when he asked her where she was. She told him, without any preamble, not wanting to aid in his annoyance.</p>
<p>He was holding his head in one hand when he teleported into her car, and she understood, then, why he was so irritated. Between the voices of angel radio and Dean praying to him to come help him and Sam, Castiel's head was filled with far too many voices. Brooke could not make out exactly what was being said, as none of the voices were directed at her, but she could dimly hear the cacophony in her own brain for a moment or two, before she was whisked away to wherever Sam and Dean were.</p>
<p>Immediately, Brooke felt the presence of another angel in the room where Sam, Dean, and Bobby all sat. Brooke studied the angel, who seemed to be lecturing Sam and Dean about something. She caught the tail end of the last sentence as the world settled into place: "… you petty, entitled little piece—</p>
<p>"Rachel," Castiel reprimanded, his voice quiet, but firm. "That's enough."</p>
<p>The angel, Rachel, glanced at her leader, then glanced at Brooke. Then she looked at the ground, humbled. "I told you I'd take care of this," she muttered.</p>
<p>"It's all right, you can go," Castiel replied.</p>
<p>Rachel met Castiel's eyes, clearly not as humbled as she had acted two seconds before. 'You're <em>staying</em>?" she demanded.</p>
<p>"<em>Go</em>," Castiel repeated, his voice louder, the command clearer.</p>
<p>Rachel stared at him.</p>
<p>"I'll come when I can," Castiel said.</p>
<p>Rachel continued to stare at him for a moment, then she glanced at Brooke again and Brooke felt a stab of anger leveled at her. Rachel vanished. Brooke massaged her head where the anger had lanced into her brain. The pain diminished after a second or two, and she glanced at Castiel out of the corner of her eye, grinning.</p>
<p><em>Have I mentioned how hot it is that you're a Commander? So… tough and… dominating. </em>Brooke recalled the hour she had spent with Castiel the last time she had seen him, half of which had been spent in bed, learning the consequences of not thinking before spoke.</p>
<p>Castiel returned her glance, his eyes traveling up and down her body, setting the Grace within her alight for a moment. His eyes sparkled in amusement and arousal, but he did not relish those secret, unspoken memories for very long. He turned to Sam, Dean, and Bobby.</p>
<p>"Wow," Dean said, pointing at the place where Rachel had been standing a moment before. "Friend of yours?" he asked Cass.</p>
<p>"Yes," Castiel replied. "She's, uh, my lieutenant. She's committed to the cause."</p>
<p><em>She's committed to </em>you<em>, </em>Brooke corrected, glancing at Cass again. <em>I think she wants to bang you.</em></p>
<p>Castiel turned to look at her fully, his face a show of perfect confusion.</p>
<p>"Hey, <em>hey</em>!" Dean said, loudly. "Could you two use your words?"</p>
<p>Brooke chuckled. "I was telling Castiel that Rachel wants bang his brains out."</p>
<p>Castiel was looking sufficiently embarrassed by this exchange. He quickly looked away from Brooke. "What—what do you need?" he asked, looking at Dean.</p>
<p>Brooke quieted, waiting, and folded her arms across her chest, but the smirk never left her face. That stab of anger that Rachel had sent into her brain… there had been jealousy mixed in. It seemed that at least one angel in Castiel's army had the hots for him, and was jealous of his… whore. She smiled wider.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Castiel had sent Sam and Dean back in time to retrieve… the ashes of a phoenix. Brooke had never heard of a <em>real</em> phoenix before, but at this point, nothing really surprised her. The important part was that Castiel could only give the boys twenty-four hours, and then he had to bring them back, or they would be lost to him. He had left shortly after sending them back in time. Brooke had stayed with Bobby, waiting, and helping him do more research about this… Mother of all things, whatever she was.</p>
<p>There were three hours left on the timer when Castiel reappeared, in Bobby's kitchen, and immediately fell over onto the ground.</p>
<p>"What the hell?" Bobby said, standing up.</p>
<p>Brooke rushed over to Castiel, Bobby only a step behind. Brooke fell to her knees beside Castiel, feeling pain from him flow outward and infest her mind. He was bleeding. He had been stabbed by an angel blade. <em>Rachel</em>. The name was whispered to her.</p>
<p>Castiel urged her back, away from him, and began to draw a sigil on Bobby's fridge with his own blood. He was panting heavily, grunting in pain, fighting to stay conscious. To Brooke, his consciousness felt like a light slowly going out, flickering. It caused her to groan and hold her head in her hands, fighting to maintain control over her own wakefulness. They were so connected that she was afraid if <em>he</em> passed out, that <em>she</em> would.</p>
<p>He began to push himself to her feet, and she pulled one of his arms over her shoulders and stood up with him. He leaned heavily on her, so she leaned against him, in the opposite direction, pushing him upright. He grunted with every step, stumbling. He tried to speak, but it was so much work simply to remain awake that he could hardly even stand.</p>
<p>"Cass?" Bobby said slowly, worry distorting his features. "Are we running or fighting?"</p>
<p>Castiel stumbled forward again, pushing away from Brooke to stand on his own.</p>
<p>Brooke allowed him to, only because she knew his pride would be wounded otherwise (God forbid), but she held her arms out, wide, to catch him if he began to fall over.</p>
<p>Castiel took a step toward Bobby. "We're…" he said, trying to answer the Hunter's question. Then he passed out completely and fell into the man's arms.</p>
<p>Bobby caught him, struggling to hold the angel's weight. "Balls!" he cursed. "Brooke, help me get him in the chair."</p>
<p>Brooke surged forward, and they each took an arm, dragging him over to big red chair in the living room. He did not wake for two hours. For lack of anything better to do, Brooke cleaned the wound in Castiel's chest from the angel blade, though she knew that he was not human, and cleaning it probably did nothing useful. After that, she simply sat in a chair, facing him, and stared at his crumpled form. Bobby had the decency to leave her alone, instead of trying to tell her to stop staring at Castiel.</p>
<p>Two hours later, Brooke's head was bowed, her arms resting on her knees, and she felt—rather than saw—him wake up. She felt his mind surge back into consciousness and whipped her head up to stare at him. He sat up, and even the effort required to do that winded him immediately.</p>
<p>Bobby came over to him, studying him carefully. "Cass…" he began. "You look like you went twelve rounds with Truckasaurus. What happened?"</p>
<p>Castiel had a hard time answering, breathing heavily. "I was, um… I was betrayed."</p>
<p>Brooke squinted at him. He had just… half-lied to Bobby.</p>
<p>"Rachel, uh…" Castiel turned his head, searching for the words. Searching for a lie. "Raphael," he said. "He corrupted her. She turned on me."</p>
<p>The part about Raphael was a lie, but Rachel <em>had</em> turned on him and attacked him.</p>
<p>Castiel glanced at Brooke, feeding her the truth. Rachel had discovered what Castiel was doing, working with Crowley, trying to open Purgatory to absorb the souls within, un-sinking the Titanic in order to absorb all <em>those</em> souls—though Castiel had reverted that event.</p>
<p>Brooke shook her head and sighed. <em>Rachel betrayed you… because you betrayed her. That anger I felt, earlier… I don't think she meant for me to feel it—though the jealousy </em>was<em> real. She didn't want to believe all the things you'd done.</em></p>
<p>Castiel did not reply to her, but she felt his sorrow at what had transpired.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," Bobby told him. "Girl's a real peach."</p>
<p>Castiel did not look at him. "She's… dead," he confessed.</p>
<p>Bobby looked shocked, but said nothing.</p>
<p>"I was wounded," Castiel said, shifting in the chair. "I needed safety. Thank you." He began to get up out of the chair, but groaned in pain immediately.</p>
<p>Brooke quickly got up and shoved him back down, and so did Bobby.</p>
<p>Castiel sat.</p>
<p>"Now, what's with the finger painting?" Bobby asked, pointing to the sigil on the fridge. It was not an accusation; Brooke got the feeling he was simply trying to distract Castiel to keep him sitting down.</p>
<p>Castiel was panting softly, sweat beading on his forehead. "It's a… warding symbol against angels," he explained.</p>
<p>Brooke had not left her position with her hand on Castiel's shoulder. She knelt, now, in front of his chair, staring up into his face. She had known from the beginning that the war with Raphael had changed him. He was less patient, less human. The sex they had was great, but he was often at a loss when she wanted gentleness from him. He warded his heart from her for the most part, though he could not ward his mind. She did not care—well, she <em>did</em>. She worried, she wanted everything to go back to the way it had been, whatever that meant. But she did not care in that she had agreed to go along with his plan because she loved him, and they were a part of each other—literally. So long as he let her into his mind, and—when possible—into his heart, she would follow him, as she had done those two years leading up to the Apocalypse. She would follow him to her death if that was how this all ended.</p>
<p>Castiel heard her thought and stared down into her face for a moment, disturbed. <em>I won't let anything happen to you</em>, he told her.</p>
<p><em>It doesn't matter</em>, she said. <em>Just do what you have to.</em></p>
<p>"How bad does it hurt?" Bobby asked Castiel, interrupting their thoughts.</p>
<p>Castiel shifted again in the chair. "I'll heal," he said.</p>
<p>"Good," said Bobby and Brooke at the same time.</p>
<p>"We've got less than an hour before you have to pick up the kids at Frontierland," Bobby reminded him. He began to walk away.</p>
<p>"I can't," Castiel said.</p>
<p>Bobby turned back to him. "Come again?"</p>
<p>"This fight…" Castiel began, sitting up a little more to look at Bobby. "Drained me."</p>
<p>Bobby shrugged. "Well, if you're up on blocks, then call in another halo who can get the job done."</p>
<p>"I can't," Castiel repeated.</p>
<p>And Brooke knew that he couldn't call another angel down because they were either against him, or they would discover what had happened to Rachel—they would discover Castiel's treachery. Brooke covered Castiel's hands with her own, offering sympathy. If no one else in the world would be sympathetic to him, she would be. She felt his gratitude, though it was mired in guilt and anger and frustration. Castiel had begun to realize that the path he was on was, perhaps, damned, but he had resigned himself to it.</p>
<p>Castiel looked down at Brooke, and even she could not truly discern what he was feeling. But she could tell that he was glad she was there.</p>
<p>Unaware of the silent conversation, still—or, perhaps, uncaring—Bobby went on: "Well, there's gotta be <em>something</em> that can juice you up. A spell? Something."</p>
<p>"There is one thing that might work," Castiel conceded. He shook his head. "But it's extremely dangerous."</p>
<p>"Shocker," Bobby said. "So, lay it on me."</p>
<p>"It's your soul," Castiel said, looking up at him.</p>
<p>"What?" Brooke asked, standing up.</p>
<p>Bobby stared at the angel. "What do you want me to do? Make another deal? Seal it with a kiss?"</p>
<p>Castiel opened his mouth to respond, then turned his head away for a moment.</p>
<p>Brooke squinted at him and reached out with her mind, demanding to know what the fuck he was thinking of doing to Bobby. Castiel allowed her in.</p>
<p>"Oh, hell no," Brooke said, immediately.</p>
<p>"<em>What</em>?" Bobby snapped.</p>
<p>"I need you to let me touch it," Castiel explained.</p>
<p>Bobby stared at him, confused. "Touch it?" he repeated.</p>
<p>"The human soul… It's pure <em>energy</em>," the angel said. "If I can siphon some of that off, I might be able to bring Sam and Dean back."</p>
<p>Brooke was slowly shaking her head.</p>
<p>"And the catch is…?" Bobby asked.</p>
<p>"You could <em>explode</em> if he fucks it up," Brooke said, turning to look at Bobby. "I won't let him do it."</p>
<p>Bobby glared at her. "Hey, it's up to <em>me</em>, ain't it? It's my soul. And if this is the only way to get the boys back…"</p>
<p>Brooke shook her head more vigorously. "<em>Fuck</em> no," she said. "Bobby, I don't know if you're aware of this, but you're the closest person I've ever had to a father. I am <em>not </em>letting Castiel shove his hand into your chest."</p>
<p>Bobby's face softened for a moment. "I know that, girl," he said—</p>
<p>"We don't have a choice," Castiel interrupted.</p>
<p>Brooke turned to him. "Don't do it to him. Do it to <em>me</em>."</p>
<p>Castiel stared at her in shock, and then his eyes swiveled away, looking here and there and everywhere, but not at her.</p>
<p>"You're fine with <em>Bobby</em> possibly exploding, but not with <em>me</em> exploding, you hypocritical…" Brooke took a deep breath. "You do it to <em>me</em> or you don't do it at all."</p>
<p>Castiel shook his head, looking at her again. "I don't know if I <em>can</em> do it to you. I can't hurt you, remember? And this would <em>definitely</em> hurt."</p>
<p>"I think we've established that you can hurt me," Brooke snapped, flooding Castiel's mind with memories of the last time they had had sex—how rough it had been. The pain had been agreed upon first, and enjoyed, but it had still been pain. "You just can't <em>kill</em> me," she continued. "So… <em>don't fuck it up</em>."</p>
<p>"Hey," Bobby started to speak.</p>
<p>"Shut up, Bobby!" Brooke said, loudly, still staring down at Castiel with a challenging glint in her eyes.</p>
<p>Castiel stared up at her, desperation in his eyes. <em>You know I can't… Not with you</em>, he said. <em>If I kill you accidentally, I… You're the only thing keeping me…</em> He could not finish the thought.</p>
<p>She approached him and returned to her knees in front of the chair. <em>I know</em>, she told him. <em>That's why I know you won't kill me. You </em>can't. <em>So, I know I'm safe. Do it, Castiel. I can handle the pain. But if you do it to Bobby and you accidentally kill him, I will never forgive you, and I may finish the job Rachel started no matter </em>what<em> your Grace tries to do to stop me</em>.</p>
<p>He looked down at her, hurt by her words, but only for so long. Linked as they were, it was difficult to remain angry at each other, for they understood one another completely. He sighed and nodded. "All right," he murmured.</p>
<p>Bobby seemed to have relented. He was standing silently with his arms folded over his chest, glaring at the two of them.</p>
<p>Castiel stood up, swaying a little, but managed to remain upright. "Sit in that chair," he ordered Brooke, pointing to the straight-backed wooden one she had been sitting in for two hours while waiting for him to wake up.</p>
<p>She did as she was told.</p>
<p>Castiel removed the belt from his suit pants and folded it over on itself.</p>
<p>Brooke took it and clenched it between her teeth. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bobby throw his hands up and walk out of the living room. She could understand the reaction. She didn't think she'd be able to watch if he were in her position right then.</p>
<p>Castiel rolled up one sleeve. <em>You sure?</em> he asked.</p>
<p>
  <em>Yes. Do it.</em>
</p>
<p>He sighed, gripped one of her shoulders to keep her in the chair, and began to slowly push his other hand through her chest.</p>
<p>Pain exploded through the middle of her body. She heard her own muffled screams through the belt in her teeth, but the pain was so much that it sounded as if the screams were coming from far away. Her mind seemed to splinter—one half focused on the pain and the other focused on the Grace in her body reacting to Castiel's hand shoving its way through to her soul.</p>
<p>The Grace within her seemed to be its own entity, acting separately from her. And it did not know what to do in this situation. It screeched inside her, swarming around Castiel's hand, trying to protect her. But Castiel's hand was not in Brooke's physical body, exactly. It had phased through and into the spiritual center of her, where her soul was. But now there was Grace there, too. But it was not <em>her</em> Grace, for she was not an angel. It was Castiel's Grace, and Castiel's Grace simultaneously wished to protect Brooke from pain <em>and</em> return to Castiel's form, where the rest of it lay.</p>
<p>Brooke felt Castiel take control of the Grace inside Brooke. He parted the Grace around his hand, like Moses parting the Red Sea. The Grace inside Brooke flowed around either side of Castiel's hand like water. Then he brushed his fingertips—very gently—across the surface of Brooke's soul.</p>
<p>Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, for the sensations had overwhelmed her. It had been pain, all the way until the end, until she had felt him caress her soul. That had been pain, too, but also pleasure, and she had remembered—dimly—what it had felt like when he had possessed her to give her part of himself.</p>
<p>She felt Castiel grow stronger, felt his wound heal, felt him stand taller. Then he removed his hand from her body, and she blacked out…</p>
<p>When she came to, Sam and Dean had returned.</p>
<p>Castiel, who was hovering nearby, knelt down beside her as she sat in the chair. "Are you all right?" he asked.</p>
<p>Brooke felt exhausted, and her whole body ached—that kind of ache you get when you have a really bad flu and all your muscles hurt and you just want to lay in bed and sleep. She took a deep breath, then another, then allowed her tired eyes to close. "I'm fine," she whispered, for she was too tired even to speak in a normal tone.</p>
<p>Castiel, who had been so distant recently, so strong and cold and commanding, gently lifted her from the chair, cradling her body in his arms, and laid her out on Bobby's couch. "I cannot simply heal you as I normally would," he said. "Not from this. But I can help you sleep."</p>
<p>"Do it," she murmured.</p>
<p>Castiel pressed two fingers to her forehead, and she was out like a light.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Eight</em>
</p><p>Brooke appeared with Castiel in Bobby's basement. Castiel had not realized that Dean would be standing almost exactly where he was going to teleport in, so he ended up standing about two inches behind the man. Brooke took a couple steps to the side, glancing at Sam and Bobby, who were staring at her and Cass.</p><p>"It's not like Cass lives in my ass," Dean was saying. "Dude's busy." He saw that Sam and Bobby were staring awkwardly over his shoulder and spun around, staring at Castiel. "Cass, get outta my ass!" he yelled.</p><p>Castiel squinted at Dean, confused. "I was never in… your…"</p><p>They stared at each other silently for a moment.</p><p><em>You sure you two aren't secretly gay?</em> Brooke asked the angel, only half-jokingly.</p><p>Castiel slowly turned his head to stare at her.</p><p>Brooke put her hands up in a surrendering fashion.</p><p>Castiel sighed and then turned back to Dean. "Have you made any progress in locating Eve?"</p><p>"We were gonna ask <em>you</em> about that," Bobby said.</p><p>"No, I've looked," Castiel replied, "but she's hidden from me. She's hidden from <em>all</em> angels."</p><p>"Awesome," said Dean, sarcastically.</p><p>"You know, what we really need is an inside man," Sam mused.</p><p>They all turned to look at him.</p><p>"What do you mean?" Dean asked him.</p><p>"Something with claws and sympathy," Sam explained.</p><p>"Like a friendly monster?"</p><p>Sam shrugged.</p><p>"Those are in short supply these days, don't you think?"</p><p>Sam shrugged again. "Sure, but we've met one or two, right?"</p><p>"Maybe…"</p><p>"So," Sam concluded, "maybe we can find one."</p><p>They spent the next several hours poring over old books, going through their lists of contacts, and muttering amongst themselves. Brooke, personally, had never met a friendly monster, other than, perhaps, Meg. But Meg had been created by Lucifer, not by Eve, so she wouldn't be very helpful in their search.</p><p>It was Castiel who came through in the end, whooshing into Bobby's basement with a woman in tow. A vampire, Brooke came to find out. A vampire who wanted nothing to do with Eve, who did not want to be in Bobby's basement. Who did not want to tell them anything, for revealing where Eve was to them all would let Eve know that they were coming. It seemed that Eve and every one of her children were connected telepathically.</p><p>The vampire—Lenore—told them, in the end, where to find Eve. But she told them in exchange for something: death. Lenore, who had, apparently, fed on animal blood for years, stayed away from humans, had fed on a sixteen year-old girl not long ago, for Eve sent temptations into the minds of her children, urging them the feed, to kill, to maim. To be monsters, and to do what monsters did. And Lenore had fallen prey to those temptations. Her nest, her family of vampires, had scattered to the winds, also feeding on humans for the first time in many, many years. And so now, Lenore did not want to live anymore, for fear that she would feed on humans again. She had come to hate herself.</p><p>Sam and Dean argued with her, telling her they would keep her safe until Eve had been taken care of, but Lenore would not hear it. She wanted only death.</p><p>Brooke could feel Castiel's impatience beside her as the three of them continued to argue. All at once, he surged forward to do the deed that the Winchester brothers refused to do. But he had no care for the woman's pain. He placed his hand atop her head, and Brooke could feel his intent, to force his true form through her brain, her head, and set her on fire.</p><p><em>STOP!</em> she cried.</p><p>Castiel flinched and whipped his head to look at her, angry that she had interrupted him.</p><p>Bobby and the two brothers stared between Brooke and Castiel. Lenore held still in Castiel's grip, waiting for death.</p><p>"<em>Painlessly</em>," Brooke ordered the angel, through gritted teeth.</p><p>Castiel inhaled and rolled his eyes to the ceiling in irritation, but he switched his grip on Lenore's head, using both hands, and snapped her neck. The vampire was killed instantly.</p><p>Sam, Dean, and Bobby all stared at Lenore as her body fell to the floor. "Someone should cut off her head," Castiel said, without feeling. "To make sure she doesn't come back."</p><p>Dean stared at Castiel, his face a mask of shock and disgust.</p><p>"We needed to move this along," Castiel explained, as if that made everything better.</p><p>Brooke shook her head. "What the <em>fuck</em>, Cass?"</p><p>Castiel turned to look at her, all power and order and ruthlessness. "I did as you asked," he snapped. "I gave her a painless death."</p><p>"Yeah, but you were about to fucking <em>set her head on fire</em>." Brooke stepped over the vampire's body and began to walk upstairs, calling over her shoulder. "Jesus <em>Christ</em>, Castiel." Brooke would still keep his secrets, but that did not mean she had to stand by and let him be needlessly cruel just to save time.</p><p>###</p><p>"Well," said Dean, as they stood and took in Grants Pass, Oregon, "I was expecting more <em>Zombieland</em>, less <em>Pleasantville</em>."</p><p>"Just because it looks quiet don't mean it is," Bobby said. "Especially if she's got a clue we're comin'."</p><p>"Yeah, well," Dean replied, glancing at Cass, "if she is here, I'm just glad we've got Smitey McSmiterton on our squad."</p><p><em>Cass</em>, said Brooke, her arms folded over her chest, <em>If you set a nice monster's head on fire I'm gonna stab you with your angel blade. Only smite the </em>bad <em>monsters.</em></p><p>Castiel said nothing, but he gave her a look that was all daggers.</p><p><em>Fuck you, too</em>, she said.</p><p>###</p><p>They sat in a diner, and were one too many to take a booth. Still, they didn't want anyone overhearing them, so they ended up asking if it was all right to simply take a chair from one of the tables and have someone facing the inside of the booth. Sam ended up being the unlucky one siting in the chair. Brooke and Castiel sat beside each other in a booth, despite the fact that they weren't speaking to each other. Even angry at one another, they were linked in ways that normal people were not, and they had agreed, long ago, that they could be together and not necessarily agree with one another about everything.</p><p>They had not found Eve, and Bobby had not had much luck finding information about her or strange happenings in the town on his tablet.</p><p>Still feeling that restlessness from earlier, Castiel said, "I'll search the town."</p><p>Brooke expected him to fly off… but he simply sat there in the booth. She glanced at him, sending a tendril into his mind to see what was wrong. She felt his frustration.</p><p>"Cass, we can still see you," Dean said, after a moment.</p><p>Castiel was glancing around, mostly into his lap, trying to concentrate. "Yeah, I'm still here," he replied.</p><p>Brooke kept her eye on him, and could tell, mentally, that something was off. Something wasn't working right. She could see his wings, spread wide, phasing through the booth, through the wall of the restaurant, through herself. He was all set to teleport… but couldn't. Whatever magic he used to move around wasn't working.</p><p>"Okay, you don't have to wait on us…" Dean muttered, staring at the angel.</p><p>Castiel nodded and cleared his throat awkwardly.</p><p>On a whim, Brooke grabbed one of Castiel's hands, trying to lend him what little power he could take when he was connected to all of his Grace—including that within her. She felt the Grace in her body charging up as Castiel tried, once again, to teleport, but then all that power fizzled out without doing anything.</p><p>"Well, now it just looks like you're pooping," Dean said.</p><p>Brooke gave him an exasperated look.</p><p>"Something's wrong," Castiel admitted.</p><p>"What, are you stuck?"</p><p>"I'm blocked. I…" Castiel attempted to perform other angel magic. Brooke, still holding his hand, could feel him sifting through himself, searching for something he could successfully perform. But other than their mental connection, nothing he tried was working. "I'm powerless," he said, staring around at them helplessly.</p><p>"You're <em>joking</em>," Dean snapped.</p><p>Castiel's mind was spinning, and Brooke could feel his Grace, within him as well as her own body, churning uselessly, like an engine failing to start. "Something in this town is uh… it's affecting me," Castiel said, as he tried again and again to use any of his powers. "I assume it's Eve."</p><p>Dean stared at him. "So wait. Mom's making you limp?"</p><p>Castiel glared at him. "<em>Figuratively</em>, yes."</p><p>"How?"</p><p>"I don't know, but she is."</p><p>"Oh, well, that's great," Dean said, sarcasm rolling off his tongue. "'Cos without your powers, you're basically just a baby in a trench coat."</p><p>Castiel glared at him harder, shaking his head, then turned to stare out the window. His mind was still spinning, and Dean's insult had only fueled his ever-increasing need to be able to do something as simple for him as teleporting out of a diner. His jaw was clenched, nostrils flaring, as memories of being human for a few days over a year ago came flooding into his mind, after he had carved that sigil into his own chest and nearly killed himself. Memories of being hungry, in pain, tired, weak… useless.</p><p>"I think you hurt his feelings," Sam muttered to Dean.</p><p>Brooke sighed gently and squeezed Castiel's hand under the table, her previous anger at him forgotten. He squeezed back, hard, tethered to her as a lifeline, for he knew that she, above all others, could understand his pain, his fear, at the idea of becoming so utterly useless.</p><p><em>It's only for the moment</em>, Brooke told him. <em>The second we're away from here, or Eve's dead, you'll be back to normal</em>.</p><p>He hardly had the means to acknowledge her, so quickly was his mind flitting from thought to thought, from pain to pain.</p><p>###</p><p>Even split up, Brooke was going to be the third wheel among either of their groups. She went with Castiel and Dean, but when they went to speak to a doctor who had made a report about a patient with a strange illness, she sat in the car and waited. Castiel and Dean returned soon after leaving—sooner than she had expected. The doctor they'd been looking for had left town, and had also left a dead body behind, the body of the young man who had had the strange illness.</p><p>The man's name was—had been—Ed. Sam and Bobby, off to see about the missing doctor, met up with Brooke, Dean, and Castiel at Ed's house later on. They were here to speak to Ed's roommates about him, see if they could find out anything strange.</p><p>Castiel, however, was the one who discovered the <em>strange</em> thing. He interrupted the conversation between Dean and Bobby. "Does Ed Bright have a brother?"</p><p>"No," said Bobby. "Why?"</p><p>Castiel motioned towards the window, where a man was standing, looking out. "Then, that's not his twin."</p><p>Brooke squinted up at the man in the window, noticing that he was coughing horrendously. The others murmured around her, wondering what it could be, but she kept her eyes on the man. He was having trouble even closing the curtains, his whole body racked by coughs.</p><p>Sam and Dean prepared to go into the house to check out whoever the man truly was.</p><p>"You three stay here," Sam told Booke, Castiel, and Bobby. "Anything comes out, shoot it."</p><p>"Best guess, silver bullets," Dean added.</p><p>Brooke tapped her coat pocket, making sure her gun was there. Already loaded. She glanced at Castiel when she felt his twinge of emotional discomfort.</p><p>"I'm fairly unpracticed with firearms," he muttered.</p><p>Dean looked at him, glanced away, and then patted his arm. "You know who whines? Babies." Then he and Sam walked away, towards the house.</p><p>Castiel looked like he wanted to say something, but gave up.</p><p>"I got you, Cass," Brooke told him, trying to lighten the mood. "Anything comes after you, I'll shoot it faster than you can spread your wings."</p><p>Castiel was still upset, but she could feel a little bit of his usual self shimmer through for a moment. <em>I'd like to see you try</em>, he told her.</p><p>She winked at him.</p><p>###</p><p>The man in the house had not been Ed Bright, despite looking exactly like him. All of his roommates had become infected, and their bodies transformed into look-a-likes of him. And they had all died.</p><p>Brooke now stood with the other four at the bar that Ed had gotten sick in. Eve had been there that night—had touched him.</p><p>The floor of the bar was littered with dead bodies, bloodied and broken. The five of them wandered around, and soon discovered that these bodies had all been monsters… and not normal monsters, but hybrids. Dean smiled grimly and christened them: Jefferson Starships, "because they're horrible and hard to kill."</p><p>Then the cops came for them all. Dean, who had been kneeling on the ground, studying of the creatures, snuck behind the bar and was not taken.</p><p>Brooke could feel Castiel's annoyance and absolute indignation at being cuffed by a bunch of humans and made to go anywhere with them. Were he an angel, and not afraid of what would happen to the others, he would have simply made them all sleep, or done worse. He caught Brooke's eye as they were dragged out of the bar, and within his gaze was a silent promise to protect her—to protect them all. But there was anger there, too, his blue eyes fierce and hard, the beginnings of rage stirring within him.</p><p>His impatience, so prevalent, recently, was returning.</p><p>###</p><p>Dean had come, quickly, to their rescue, which was good, since all the cops had actually been Jefferson Starships. Brooke stood with the others, her handcuffs removed, and stared at the halfway-beheaded monster-officers who had arrested them all. They had kept one alive, whom Bobby was now trying to scare into giving up information.</p><p>Brooke stood silently and kept her eyes and ears open, waiting for some other monster to pop up from around a corner, or for some poor fool of a human to wander into the police station.</p><p>A noise sounded from somewhere deeper inside the station, and Sam and Dean went to check on it. They returned a few minutes later with two young boys. Human boys. The Jefferson Starships had had then handcuffed, gagged, and locked in a cell. Brooke's heart went out to them, and she began to wonder about their parents, immediately. Were they alive? And, if not, what were Sam and Dean and the others going to do with two boys?</p><p>In the end, the Winchester brothers decided to drive them to where their uncle lived, fifteen miles outside of town. They'd be gone forty minutes, at most.</p><p>Castiel's pissed-off meter immediately spiked upon hearing their plans to leave, even for such a short period of time. "Dean," he said, approaching him. "Can I have a word?"</p><p>Brooke rolled her eyes and went to lean against the nearest wall. She did not hear with her ears what they said, but she could tell, based on Castiel's emotional state, that Dean had basically told him to fuck off with his impatience, and that saving two kids was more important than finding Eve right then.</p><p>Castiel watched the four boys—the Winchesters and the younger ones—leave. And then he stormed away.</p><p>###</p><p>Castiel spent the next twenty minutes staring out the window, waiting for Sam and Dean to return, like a puppy waiting for its owner to come home from work. Brooke had tried to speak to him, but he'd ignored her.</p><p>"They won't take long," Bobby said. He was also getting annoyed at the way Castiel had been acting.</p><p>"You don't know that," the angel replied. "They may find more wayward orphans along the way." Sarcasm dripped from his voice.</p><p>Bobby made a face at his back. "Don't get cute," he said.</p><p>"Right," Castiel replied, turning to look at him. "Pardon me for highlighting their crippling and dangerous empathetic response with <em>sarcasm</em>." He put air quotes around the last word. "It was a bad idea, letting them go."</p><p>Brooke sighed from her corner, glaring at Castiel from across the room.</p><p>"Come on," Bobby said. "You don't <em>let</em> Sam and Dean Winchester do squat. They do what they gotta. You know that."</p><p>Castiel said nothing.</p><p>"Anyway," Bobby continued, "We wanna find Eve, we need coordinates. So, we can either stand here, bellyaching… or we can go poke that pig 'til he squeals." He motioned to the other room, where the one Jefferson Starship that they had not killed was still sitting, tied to the chair. "Thoughts?"</p><p>Castiel glanced between Bobby and Brooke, his eyes flicking back to Brooke for a moment as he saw her irritated gaze. He matched her expression for a moment, and then walked out the door.</p><p>Bobby looked at Brooke for a moment, too, shrugging and sighing, and then followed the angel.</p><p>Brooke remained leaning against the wall, and tilted her head back so that it bumped the wall. <em>Cass, you really need to chill</em>, she admonished. She felt no response from him. Sighing, she pushed off the wall and followed the two of them to go torture the hybrid monster for details about Eve.</p><p>It was Castiel who gained the information, telling Bobby and Brooke that he needed only five minutes with the creature. Bobby relented much quicker than Brooke did. Brooke stood there in front of the angel to whom she had pledged her life and her heart and her soul. He had done the same for her, but he was not the same angel who had made those unspoken vows. She stared him down, ignoring the taunts of the Jefferson Starship sitting in the chair.</p><p><em>Castiel</em>, she said, a warning in her voice.</p><p><em>Five minutes</em>, he said, ignoring her tone. <em>Go with Bobby</em>.</p><p>She stared at him for a moment longer, her fingers twitchy like she was thinking about punching him in the face.</p><p>He did not react to those feelings. Simply looked at her, his expression neutral and uncaring.</p><p>She turned and left.</p><p>When he came back to them, wiping the blood from his fingers with a cloth, and speaking the address that they needed, Brooke walked up to him. "You… exploded his head off," she said. "What is it with you and… destroying heads off of things?"</p><p>He stared at her.</p><p>She saw the fresh blood, splattered on his clothes, covering his hands. <em>This goes deeper than wanting to find Eve, or wanting to kill Raphael</em>, she told him. <em>Going back to Heaven for a year changed you</em>.</p><p><em>I have been at war</em>, he replied, slowly, as if she were a stupid child. <em>I do not have time for kindness. I explained, already.</em></p><p>"Yes, you explained!" she snapped, speaking aloud, and grabbed him by the shirt collar. "But you used to feel <em>bad</em> about it! Now you… you've become a robot. <em>Where are you</em>?"</p><p>Something inside Castiel snapped. He grabbed her, roughly, by the wrists, and tore her hands away from his clothes. "<em>Here</em>!" he yelled, staring down into her face, his eyes at once wild, but cold. "I am <em>here</em>, like I always have been! I am an <em>angel</em>! I am a <em>soldier</em>! And now I command an army against Raphael! I don't have time to care—not about that thing in there—</p><p>—he pointed to the room where the dead hybrid sat—</p><p>—and not about <em>you</em>, or your <em>human feelings</em>!"</p><p>Brooke felt as if he had slapped her. She stood staring up into his angry, distorted face, feeling on the verge of tears, and then the Grace in her blood flooded her system, roiling and hot. "You don't care about <em>me</em>? <em>ME</em>?" The usual shaking that happened when she grew angry like this did not occur, and the Grace was unable to do its normal job, filling her with its strength. Eve had seen to that. Still, she knew Castiel could feel it, that anger washing over his own mind.</p><p>"<em>YOU DON'T GET TO NOT CARE ABOUT </em>ME<em>, CASTIEL</em>!" Brooke screamed, both aloud and in her mind. "<em>I AM YOU</em>."</p><p>"All right, that's enough!" Bobby's voice, so small compared to the mental battle being waged in Brooke's mind, somehow broke through to her, and to Castiel. "<em>Knock it off, you two</em>!" he demanded, physically placing his own body between them and shoving them away from each other.</p><p>Brooke felt as though a rubber band had just snapped inside her entire body, shifting back into place, painfully. Clearly, Eve's ability to cut off angel powers did not work entirely.</p><p>Castiel breathed heavily and stared at her across the chasm that Bobby had created between them. Brooke felt his anger, frustration, sorrow, pain… It rushed through her mind like a whirlwind, and she had trouble remembering which were <em>his</em> emotions and which were <em>hers</em>. She stared at his face, into his eyes, and saw them, suddenly, go flat. He looked away from her—and slammed the mental wall up between them.</p><p>Brooke cried out in pain, clutching her head in her hands. She fought to stay upright as her vision blacked out. "Castiel, you <em>dick</em>!" she yelled, but her voice came out as a groan. She fell to her knees, her head spinning uncontrollably, as her mind attempted to rebuild itself without an angel in it. She had forgotten what this feeling was like. Even when Castiel had left for a year, he had not blocked himself from her. Yes, he had been gone, and her mind had been devoid of him. But he had left the channel between them open. He had not slammed the door on her like this in years, and her mind was reeling from it, unable to comprehend being by itself in her head. She felt small, so small, and weak, and <em>human</em>. And her head felt like it was encased in ice.</p><p>Vaguely, she was aware of Bobby calling her name, shaking her shoulder, but she could not respond to him. She did not even have the energy to lift her head, to look up into Castiel's eyes and beg to know why he had shut her out. She waited for the spinning to stop, but it never did. In another few moments, she slumped forward onto the ground, passed out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the wait on the new chapter. I took a small break from writing for a few days.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Nine</em>
</p>
<p>Brooke awoke, later that night, on the floor of the police station. There was a note next to her that read: "Going after Eve. Stay here. Wait for us."</p>
<p>She picked up the note, holding it in her hands, running her fingers over Bobby's handwriting. She sat on the floor, unmoving, for an hour. Two? She couldn't be sure. But, eventually, Castiel appeared before her. She saw his shoes and pant legs before anything else, and that was when she knew that her mind was still her own—and <em>only</em> her own.</p>
<p>"Eve," she whispered. There were many other things she wanted to say, instead, but her mind and heart were numb.</p>
<p>"Dead," the angel replied, and then crouched down in front of her and reached a hand out for her shoulder.</p>
<p>She flinched away from his touch… and he saw.</p>
<p>His hand fell away.</p>
<p>"How could you do that to me?" she whispered, and suddenly she was a mess of tears. "What is happening to us, Castiel?"</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," he said, but there was a note of urgency in his tone. "I—I can't—I have to take you away from here. Bring you to Bobby's, or somewhere, and leave. They found out that Crowley is still alive."</p>
<p>"I don't care about your <em>stupid plan</em>, Castiel," Brooke spat, tears still running down her face. "None of that matters to me, as long as you win." She looked up at him, finally, and grabbed his face in her hands. There was dried blood on the backs of her hands from where he had grabbed her earlier, after he had finished exploding the head off that demon. "I just want <em>you</em> back. <em>You</em>. Not this… angry, impatient, prideful angel. <em>You</em>. You've changed, and I don't care the reason."</p>
<p>Castiel began to pull himself out of her grasp so she tightened her grip on his face, digging her fingers into his cheeks, his temples. He stopped.</p>
<p>"Please just finish whatever it is you're going to do about Raphael. Finish it and come back to me, <em>please</em>," she begged, her voice breaking, sobs racking her body. "Please come back to me."</p>
<p>Castiel's expression broke, and he suddenly looked very human. He sat down fully onto the ground and pulled Brooke into his lap at the same time. She was so surprised by this that it only seemed to make her cry harder. He held her, then, as he had not held her since the first night that she had given herself to him. That night, over a year ago, when he had come to her as vulnerable as he had ever been. And now, finally, he allowed himself that vulnerability.</p>
<p>Brooke felt Castiel slowly lower the wall between their minds, so that they were once again connected. And he allowed her, finally, to feel the fear and doubt and instability that he was feeling. Feelings that he had been pushing down from day one of this crazy plan with Crowley. He allowed himself to be as close to human as he had been in a long time, and he allowed her to witness it.</p>
<p>After some time, wrapped in his arms, she pulled, gently, away from him, and saw, with shock, that he was close to tears. His eyes were red and watery, his face distorted a little from trying to hold himself together. The tears were as much for causing her pain as they were related to his own confusion and anger over this plan about Purgatory.</p>
<p>"Castiel," she whispered, and touched his face with the gentleness of a mother to a child.</p>
<p>"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice cracking as she had never heard it, hardly above a whisper. "This will be over soon," he continued. "I promise. Please, just… just wait a little longer."</p>
<p>Tears still fell from her eyes, but most of her sobs had calmed. She closed her and brought Castiel's forehead down to her own, the familiar move they made to comfort one another. Wordless thought flowed between their minds for a minute or two, as they breathed in tandem.</p>
<p>And then, Castiel unfurled his wings and teleported them away, holding Brooke close to him. She opened her eyes and saw that he had taken her to Bobby's house. She lay, bridal-style, in his arms, and he gently lowered her to her feet.</p>
<p>"I have to go," he said, touching her face.</p>
<p>"I know." Her voice was calm, for Castiel was, once again, hers. He still had to go through with his plan, but he had let her into himself in a way that he had not for over a year. And now that she knew him—all of him—his fears, his doubts, his self-loathing… she was complete, for she accepted all of him.</p>
<p>He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, sweetly, at first, and then with more passion, pouring himself into her through that kiss. And then he was gone.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke spent the next several days and weeks lying to Sam, Dean, and Bobby. Lying through her teeth, and hating herself for it. But her loyalty, above all others, was to Castiel, as it always had been. She hated lying to Dean the most. Dean, who, out of all the others, most deserved to know the truth, for he was the one, next to Brooke, who had the closest connection to Castiel. Saw the angel as a friend, as a brother. As family. And Brooke told him nothing.</p>
<p>They questioned her, of course. Were suspicious of her, most likely. They all knew that she had Castiel were connected telepathically. But the last time Bobby had seen Castiel and Brooke together, he had seen Castiel sever that connection. Brooke simply pretended that Castiel had never brought the connection back. "Why else would he sever his mind from mine unless he didn't want me to know something?" she had asked, trying to convince them that she knew nothing of whatever his plans were.</p>
<p>"Yeah, but you've been connected to him for years," Sam had piped up. "You're telling me you don't know <em>anything</em>… about <em>anything</em>?"</p>
<p>"Look, just because we're mentally connected doesn't mean it's impossible to keep secrets," she had said, and had been sickeningly surprised at how easy it had been to come up with some lie on the spot. "Like ninety-eight percent of Cass' thoughts are in Enochian, which I can't understand."</p>
<p>Dean had eyed the Enochian tattoo on Brooke's arm. "Can't understand, huh?" he had said, looking up at her.</p>
<p>She had scoffed at him. "<em>This</em>? This is one word. It's Cass' name. Cass' brain doesn't work like a human's. He's got thousands of thoughts all going at once, and it's all just shoved into my brain like I'm standing next to a jackhammer. He's <em>loud</em>, but not very easy to understand." It was easy to lie, Brooke realized, because it was half-true. That was, basically, what being inside Castiel's head was like—or that's what it <em>had</em> been like, in the very beginning. Of course, now, with part of the angel's Grace in her blood, and all the time spent near him, his thoughts had become easier and easier to distinguish, to understand, to sift through. And she was quite fluent in Enochian at this point. But Sam and Dean and Bobby did not know that, and they didn't <em>need </em>to know.</p>
<p>Mainly, they had left her alone after that, including her in their conversations about Castiel and what to do with him. Pretending to be innocent of what Castiel was up to, however, became increasingly difficult as he began to spy on their conversations. No one could see him. No one but her. He could not truly hide himself from her, even if he wanted to, because she contained part of his Grace within her body. Perhaps he could have remained physically invisible to her, but she would have been able to <em>feel</em> him. As it was, she could both see him <em>and</em> feel him—and she had to pretend to do neither.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>"Look, Dean, he's our friend, too, okay?" Sam said, as they all stood around Bobby's kitchen. "And I'd die for him, I would, but…" Sam sighed. "Look, I'm praying we're wrong here."</p>
<p>Brooke remained silent, staring at the floor, doing everything within her power not to stare directly at where Castiel was standing.</p>
<p>"But if we ain't wrong," Bobby said, "if there's a snowball of a snowball's chance, here… that means we're dealing with a Superman who's gone dark side, which means we gotta be cautious, we gotta be smart. And <em>maybe</em> stock up on some kryptonite."</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>And so, they went on. Searching for Crowley, who did not want to be found. Looking for demons where Castiel had already killed them.</p>
<p>And all the while, Brooke began to break under the strain of lying to her friends.</p>
<p>And all the while, Dean began break under the strain of wishing so hard that his best friend was not the monster that he was beginning to think he was.</p>
<p>So, one day, finally, they all agreed to call Castiel down to them. To simply <em>ask</em> him if he was working for Crowley. To ask him if he wanted to open Purgatory. Brooke was terrified, but she went along with it. She, as much as the others, had no idea how this would go. Would Castiel finally just tell them all the truth? And, if he did, would they accept it, as she had? Or was <em>she</em> the crazy one, for having accepted it in the first place?</p>
<p>That was her biggest fear: that she had placed Castiel before all others, and that Castiel would turn out to be the monster all along.</p>
<p>But she buried that fear way down deep inside herself and pretended that she had never let the thought in at all.</p>
<p>But Castiel, visible only to Brooke, did not show himself. Not truly. And Brooke could feel the fear in his own mind: How would he ever explain himself to them—</p>
<p>—The demons came from nowhere, hidden even from Brooke, somehow. And hidden, apparently, from Castiel, as well.</p>
<p>Brooke was taken by the front of her shirt and thrown so hard into a wall that the Grace in her blood and bones <em>screamed</em> and rushed about the back of her skull to protect it. She was mildly dazed, even still, and in the meantime, the demon who had attacked her pulled a fist back and punched her in the face. She screamed as her nose broke, but blindly put her hands out to shove her thumbs through the demon's eyes.</p>
<p>Castiel pulled the demon off of her and killed it with holy light, and went around to the others to do the same. Then he returned to her and placed two fingers upon her forehead, and her nose was healed, and the dizziness in her head was gone. He looked at her for a moment, and from his eyes and his mind he told her: <em>Say nothing</em>.</p>
<p>And she understood. <em>Yes</em>, she agreed.</p>
<p>And they turned, as one entity, hand in hand, to face the others. And suddenly, right then, it was Brooke and Castiel versus Sam and Dean and Bobby. All at once, she had become one with the angel, and outcast from the humans, without even realizing that she had done it.</p>
<p>Dean was picking himself up off the floor. "It is good to see you, Cass," he said, with a genuine smile, so happy to see his best friend. So willing to believe that Castiel was not doing anything secretive or wrong.</p>
<p>"Yeah," said Sam. "Perfect timing, Cass."</p>
<p>Castiel said, "I'm glad I found you. I come with news." His mind was scrambling for anything to say, to explain why he was there, what he'd been doing.</p>
<p>"Yeah, what?" Dean asked.</p>
<p>"I firmly believe that Crowley is alive."</p>
<p>Brooke did not change her face, her expression, her stance. But in her head, she said, <em>Weak. Too weak.</em></p>
<p>Castiel acknowledged her critique, but it was too late to take the words back.</p>
<p>Surprisingly, and to both their relief, the others took the line that Castiel had fed them. And then they apologized for ever having doubted them. And Castiel smiled and forgave them, and inside, his heart was breaking. Brooke squeezed his hand until her knuckles were white, trying to give him strength. <em>The plan</em>, she reminded him. <em>Raphael</em>.</p>
<p>And he remembered, and he accepted what had to be done, but it did not make lying to his friends—his family—any easier. It was so difficult, in fact, that Castiel felt he had to keep talking, to build up this friendly banter just to keep himself from falling apart. "It is a little absurd, though," he said. "<em>Superman going to the dark side</em>."</p>
<p>Brooke closed her eyes.</p>
<p>"I'm still just Castiel," the angel said, with a smile.</p>
<p>Brooke shook her head, the tiniest amount. <em>Cass</em>.</p>
<p>Dean was smiling, but it did not reach his eyes. "I guess we can put away the kryptonite, right?"</p>
<p>
  <em>Castiel—</em>
</p>
<p>"Exactly," Castiel replied, with a smile.</p>
<p><em>Stop talking</em>.</p>
<p>Castiel glanced at her, hearing her for the first time over the sound of his own desperation to be loved once again. <em>What?</em></p>
<p>
  <em>You just gave yourself away, you idiot. They know now. They know you've been spying. </em>
</p>
<p>Castiel realized his mistake, then, and he stared around at the three humans who now looked at him with glazed eyes and forced smiles. The illusion of his happiness shattered. "I have to go," he said, and disappeared, leaving Brooke at the mercy of the other three.</p>
<p>"Superman," she murmured, not really looking at them.</p>
<p>They all stared at her.</p>
<p>"He's been spying," she said, her voice hardly above a whisper, unable to look the others in the eye.</p>
<p>Dean walked up to her slowly. "Have you known about this… the <em>whole time</em>?" His voice was low and dangerous.</p>
<p>Brooke closed her eyes again, taking a shaky breath.</p>
<p>"<em>Answer me</em>!" His voice sliced through her.</p>
<p>"You have to understand," she whispered. "He's doing this to save us all…" She opened her eyes, and saw that the three men who were looking back at her gazed at her like strangers. She had lost them, just as Castiel had.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>"Call him!" Dean yelled.</p>
<p>Brooke shook her head, tears streaming down her face.</p>
<p>"So help me, Brooke," said Dean, "if you weren't a <em>girl</em>—</p>
<p>"Hit me, if it'll make you feel better!" she screamed. "I'm a Hunter, not some civilian! But if you want answers from him, then <em>call him yourself</em>!"</p>
<p>Dean continued to stand an inch from Brooke's face, and when he called Castiel's name, she jumped at the loudness of his voice.</p>
<p>Castiel appeared, much to Brooke's surprise, but she did not have time to even react to his being there before Dean had grabbed her roughly by the arms, spun her around, and shoved her as hard as he could towards Castiel.</p>
<p>Instinctively, the angel lunged forward, down the steps, and caught Brooke in his arms. And then Brooke felt heat surge up all around the both of them. Holy oil. She had not known about this part of their plan, for if she had, she would have warned Castiel to stay away.</p>
<p>They had poured the oil while she had gone outside, at some point, for some air. It had <em>not</em> been a great four hours.</p>
<p>And now she and Castiel were trapped in a circle of holy fire. Brooke could, <em>maybe</em>, leave without getting severely injured. But they had never tested that theory, and with part of Castiel's Grace in her body, there was a chance that crossing the flames could kill her the same as it would an angel.</p>
<p>Castiel gently pushed Brooke upright and she stood, breathing raggedly, beside him.</p>
<p>"What are you doing?" he demanded, staring around at the three men who had, at one time, been his friends. "I can explain. Please. This is not necessary."</p>
<p>"How long you been spying on us?" Sam asked.</p>
<p>"And how did Crowley trick you with the wrong bones?" Bobby added.</p>
<p>Castiel stared at them all. "Please, just let me out, and I can—</p>
<p>"You gotta look at me, man," Dean said, interrupting him. "Look me in the eye and tell me you're not working with <em>Crowley</em>."</p>
<p>Castiel stopped his fidgeting and stared Dean in the face, but he could not lie anymore. Not so directly. Not now that he had been caught. After a moment, he broke and looked away.</p>
<p>Brooke stood beside the angel to whom she was forever bonded and listened as he begged and tried to explain, listened as the others threw question after question at him, listened and watched as any trust they had ever had—for either of them—disappeared.</p>
<p>And then the demons came, raining down around the house with such force that it shook the foundations.</p>
<p>"Run!" Castiel yelled at them all. "RUN!"</p>
<p>And they ran—Sam and Dean and Bobby.</p>
<p>Dean stayed, for a moment longer, and stared into Castiel's eyes, into Brooke's eyes, and then vanished out the door.</p>
<p>Castiel, knowing that there was a chance that Brooke could die trying to cross the holy fire, grabbed her and held her tightly in his arms, shielding her with his body. But the shaking stopped soon after the three humans had left.</p>
<p>And in walked… Crowley. He smiled, his eyes lingering on Brooke for a moment too long. "Playing with fire again?" he asked, and snapped his fingers. The holy fire was extinguished.</p>
<p>Castiel let go of Brooke and began to march towards the demon. "If you touch the Winchesters…" he growled.</p>
<p>Suddenly, Crowley was standing very close to Brooke, who stumbled away from him, disturbed to be so close to a demon who had been standing ten feet across the room a second before. But Crowley had simply been avoiding Castiel's reach. He did nothing to her.</p>
<p>Castiel turned to stare at him.</p>
<p>Crowley smiled again. "Please, heard you the first time," he said. "I promise, nary a head on their artfully tousled heads. Besides, I think they've proven their point for me."</p>
<p>Castiel reached for Brooke and pulled her behind him, away from Crowley. She was not offended by this chivalry; Castiel knew that Brooke was strong and could handle herself. But Crowley was… Crowley.</p>
<p>"It's always your friends, isn't it. in the end?" the demon went on. "We try to change, we try to improve ourselves. It's always our friends who gotta claw into our sides and hold us back. But you know what I see here? The new God and the new Devil working together." He glanced around Castiel's body and looked at Brooke, winking. "And the Whore."</p>
<p>"Enough," Castiel growled, slowly approaching Crowley. He stopped inches from his face. "You stop talking, and get out of my sight." He said the words slowly, deliberately, and with barely held-back rage.</p>
<p>Crowley looked as if he'd swallowed something thorny and poisonous. Still, he pressed on, always needing to get the last word in.</p>
<p>Brooke stopped listening to him, but she could not help but hear his last words, right before he walked out the door: "What are you, Castiel? And what, exactly, are you willing to do?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Ten</em>
</p>
<p>Brooke had not seen Castiel in days, and preferred it that way. While she knew that her Cass was still in there, somewhere, the Castiel that needed to defeat Raphael had been slowly taking over for months. And even after his tearful confession the other night, he had almost immediately gone back to being cold, and focused on destroying an Archangel—to the detriment of all others.</p>
<p>So, with Castiel gone off to figure out how to open the doors to Purgatory, and Brooke being ostracized from the Winchesters and Bobby, she'd been on her own for about a week, now. She had been on her own before—had given up Hunting and lived a normal life for five years, never speaking to her mother in all that time. But now, everything was different. Brooke had made a new family among the Winchesters, and Bobby, and Castiel, and now she was away from them all. Normally, she'd Hunt to keep herself busy, but Hunting seemed sort of pointless, what with everything else going on. Still, at least the monsters were back to normal now that Eve was dead.</p>
<p>He had come, once, to take her with him, somewhere. And she had refused. She wanted nothing more to do with him until the business with Raphael was over. Until he was <em>him</em> again. Castiel had stared at her as she'd said the words, and he had felt betrayed. First Sam and Dean, and now Brooke. He had not closed his mind from her, but had simply vanished, heartbroken.</p>
<p>Now, a week later, she sat in her car in the middle of nowhere, staring out the windshield but seeing nothing. Should she have kept Castiel's secrets for him? Should she have trusted him as blindly as she had? Probably not. But it was too late to go back now.</p>
<p>Her cellphone rang, and she almost ignored it, but she saw that it was Dean calling and could not. If Dean was calling her of his own free will, after what they had discovered about her, then it was important. She sighed, deeply, and answered the phone. "Yeah," she said, her voice flat.</p>
<p>"Brooke, I need to know. Are you <em>with us</em>, or <em>with him</em>?"</p>
<p>She stared out the windshield. "Right now? I'm neither. I'm… nothing."</p>
<p>"Well, make up your damn mind!" Dean shouted.</p>
<p>Brooke said nothing.</p>
<p>He gave her an address. "That's where Cass is opening to the doors to Purgatory," he said. "I'm telling you this because you have a right to know. And if you have a shred of decency left, you'll come help us <em>stop him</em>. You <em>know</em> this is wrong."</p>
<p>Brooke remained silent.</p>
<p>Dean waited, for a few moments, but eventually cursed into the phone and hung up.</p>
<p>Brooke slowly lowered the phone from her ear, and closed her eyes. What would it be? Castiel, or the Winchesters? Castiel, or Bobby? An angel… or the humans? Possibly <em>all</em> the humans, if this failed…</p>
<p>Brooke took a deep, shaky breath, and started the car.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke arrived, apparently, at the same time as Sam. Sam, who was not with Dean and Bobby. Sam, who was standing beside… the upside-down Impala. Brooke practically flew out of her car and ran to Sam, who looked like he was having trouble standing upright. "Sam!" she called.</p>
<p>He turned to her, but did not seem to see her. He stumbled, and she caught him, pulling his arm up over her shoulder.</p>
<p>"Sam, what happened?" she asked.</p>
<p>"I—I dunno. I just got here. I—</p>
<p>He grunted, holding his head in his hands.</p>
<p>"What's wrong?" Brooke strained to keep the big man upright.</p>
<p>"Castiel didn't tell you?" Sam asked, as they both stumbled forward. "The wall—He brought down the wall…"</p>
<p>Brooke continued walking with Sam, supporting him as best she could, her mind scrambling. Castiel had brought the Hell Wall down in Sam's mind… How could he have <em>done</em> something like that? She glanced at Sam, surprised to see him even capable of walking.</p>
<p>Castiel had released the madness of Hell into Sam's mind, which could very well have <em>killed</em> him.</p>
<p>Castiel truly had gone dark side.</p>
<p>Brooke knew, then, that she was for the humans now. Not the insane angel hell-bent on absorbing half the souls in Purgatory.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>
  <em>YOU SAID IT PERFECTLY—</em>
</p>
<p>They were almost to the building when Brooke's head felt like it was going to explode. She fell to her knees and screamed, holding her head in her hands. His voice, his <em>being</em>, was loud and overwhelming. But it was… <em>wrong</em>.</p>
<p>
  <em>BUT WHAT YOU NEEDED WAS THIS.</em>
</p>
<p>In the silence that followed, for just a few seconds, Brooke tried to pick herself up off the floor. Sam was dragging <em>her</em>, now, trying to reach the building.</p>
<p>Then the ground, the air, everything began to shake and Brooke screamed again, thrown back by the power that Castiel held within himself, tied to his Grace, his lifeblood. The Grace within her body was of the <em>old</em> Castiel, and did not match the new one, the one tainted with <em>all</em> the souls of Purgatory. Castiel had not taken half. He had taken them all.</p>
<p>Brooke felt him, but he was no longer himself.</p>
<p><em>Cass</em>, she called out, half-terrified that he would simply obliterate her for speaking his name. She felt all forty-million souls turn to face her for a moment, and it was such a terrifying experience that she felt the grip on her sanity slip just a little.</p>
<p>Then the souls turned away again, focusing on the humans, and the demon, and the Archangel inside the building.</p>
<p>Sam had left her.</p>
<p>
  <em>YOU CAN'T IMAGINE WHAT IT'S LIKE. THEY'RE ALL INSIDE ME—MILLIONS UPON MILLIONS OF SOULS.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>NOW, WHAT'S THE MATTER, RAPHAEL? SOMEBODY CLIP YOUR WINGS?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>THE DEMON I HAVE PLANS FOR. YOU, ON THE OTHER HAND… </em>
</p>
<p>Raphael was so small compared to the God that Castiel had become that Brooke could hardly feel it when he was wiped from the face of the Earth.</p>
<p>Brooke picked herself up off the floor, wiping at the blood coming from every orifice in her head. Being mentally linked to Castiel now, when he had become <em>this thing</em>, was too much, even for a human with the power to see angels and demons. She was dying.</p>
<p>
  <em>SO, YOU SEE… I SAVED YOU.</em>
</p>
<p>Brooke crawled along the ground, reaching the door to the building.</p>
<p>
  <em>YOU DOUBTED ME. FOUGHT AGAINST ME. BUT I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG. </em>
</p>
<p>Brooke made her way to the door that led down to where Castiel was. The closer she came to him, the more blood poured out of her face. She did not know how she was still alive. The Grace in her body was at its peak, barely able to hold her body together.</p>
<p>
  <em>WHAT DO YOU MEAN?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>OH, NO. THEY BELONG WITH ME.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>NO, I'M NOT FINISHED YET. RAPHAEL HAD MANY FOLLOWERS, AND I MUST… PUNISH THEM ALL, SEVERELY.</em>
</p>
<p>Brooke was sobbing, crawling down the stairs, praying to every God in existence that Castiel would listen to her if only he could <em>see</em> her. See what he was doing to her. She missed a step, going down on her hands and knees, and tumbled painfully down the rest of them, landing in a heap at the bottom, groaning in pain.</p>
<p>
  <em>YOU'RE JUST SAYING THAT BECAUSE I WON. BECAUSE YOU'RE AFRAID. YOU'RE NOT MY FAMILY DEAN. I HAVE NO FAMILY.</em>
</p>
<p><em>No family?</em> Brooke thought, weakly, barely conscious. <em>Who am I?</em></p>
<p>
  <em>I'M GLAD YOU MADE IT, SAM. BUT THE ANGEL BLADE WON'T WORK, BECAUSE I'M NOT AN ANGEL ANYMORE. I'M YOUR NEW GOD. A BETTER ONE. SO YOU WILL BOW DOWN AND PROFESS YOUR LOVE UNTO ME, YOUR LORD… </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>OR I SHALL DESTROY YOU.</em>
</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke awoke only a moment later, Castiel's Voice piercing her mind, making it impossible to remain unconscious. She woke to pain and began to cry again, but crawled along the ground towards him.</p>
<p>Voices sounded around her, but all she heard was his, and it was his voice that was killing her.</p>
<p>Finally, she arrived at his feet, and reached out, to pull, pathetically, at his pant leg. Even touching the clothes on his body caused her entire being to burn white-hot. She screamed, a long piercing sound, ragged and terrible.</p>
<p>Finally, Castiel truly noticed her, and he bent down and lifted her up. He had done something to her in that moment, making it possible for her to see him, to be touched by him, and not die. He had healed her brain, her eyes, her ears, her mouth. There was no more blood pouring from her face.</p>
<p>"You, the woman who loved me, above all else," he said, staring at her. And his voice was once again quiet and able to be withstood. He had blocked her from his mind, though not completely. Touching him, she could feel millions upon millions of souls swimming around inside him, and they brushed against her mind and caused her to go nearly insane, but she clung to Castiel—to his memory—as a lifeline.</p>
<p>"Now you fear me just as the others do," he murmured, smiling at her <em>un</em>kindly. "I had such high hopes for you, my most devout pupil."</p>
<p>"Castiel," she whispered, the word barely able to leave her.</p>
<p>"No," he replied. "I am no longer Castiel. I am God."</p>
<p>"No," she murmured. "You are… Castiel."</p>
<p>White-hot rage set her on fire again, and she screamed until her throat was raw.</p>
<p>"I am God," Castiel repeated, holding her arms tightly.</p>
<p>Brooke could see nothing. Her vision had gone first white, and then dark. "Castiel," she whispered, for it was all she could think to say. "Castiel… Castiel…"</p>
<p>The creature who had once been Castiel tossed her aside and she hit the floor, hard. No longer able to speak, and still blind, she thought, in her mind: <em>Castiel… come back to me. Come back. Please…</em></p>
<p>And then he left, and suddenly she could see again. But she closed her eyes, choosing, instead, the darkness, and cried.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Eleven</em>
</p>
<p>Brooke lay on Bobby's couch, somewhere between consciousness and oblivion. She had not slept well since the night that Castiel had become God, and that had been weeks ago. Every time she fell asleep, somehow her mind connected to his, and she saw all that he was doing, and thought all that he was thinking. But Castiel was no longer himself, and he spent a lot of time killing all those he did not like, those he thought were unworthy, those he thought were sinners. The problem was that <em>everyone</em> was a sinner. He tore down churches, killed philosophers… It went beyond religion.</p>
<p>And Brooke was privy to it all, when she was asleep. It got so bad that she kept herself awake for as long as possible before succumbing to the nightmare of being inside a God's head. And it wasn't just Castiel inside there. Forty-million souls swarmed around inside him, whispering, tearing at his body, begging to be set free. And they were not nice creatures. The souls of vampires and werewolves and other, much darker, much more dangerous creature screamed and rattled the cage of Castiel's body.</p>
<p>Brooke was slowly going insane, the more she slept. Awake, she wandered Bobby's house, forcing herself to eat, but did not do much else. Sleeping did not leave her rested, and she was hardly able to function. The others mostly avoided her, still unspeakably angry at her treachery, and had only brought her back out of a sense of previously-earned loyalty. Besides, they could not bring her anywhere else. No hospital would understand—would assume that she was simply insane. Which was not far from the truth.</p>
<p>She wandered, bumping into walls and furniture, seeing things that were not there—flashes of Castiel's mind, which broke through, sometimes, even while she was awake. She and Sam had a lot in common. Sam was also hallucinating, from having the Hell wall in his mind shattered. Brooke felt sorry for him, cared about him. She cared about <em>all </em>of them. But there was nothing she could do now—she could hardly think long enough to eat, most days. She was lucky enough to retain the ability to use the bathroom on her own.</p>
<p><em>Should have told them</em>, she thought, as she wandered about Bobby's house like a ghost. <em>Should have told his secrets. Could have fixed it all, before it started.</em></p>
<p>But it was too late, now.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>They left her alone when they went to bind Death. Bobby tried to speak to her, to let her know that there was prepared food in the fridge for her, and non-perishables in the pantry. He tried to let her know where they were going, but the only thing that stuck was that they were going to bind Death, to make Death kill God. Castiel. Whatever he was now.</p>
<p>The nightmares were growing worse. The nightmares were growing worse because Castiel was losing control, more and more often, of the creatures inside him. They would push him down, shove his consciousness deep within himself, and swirl gleefully around within him. And make him do things. And make him kill people—people he didn't mean to kill. She would wake up, drenched in sweat, with the sound of that strange laughter—laughter she had never heard come out of Castiel's mouth—ringing in her ears.</p>
<p>She would wander around the house, close her eyes for just a moment, and startle herself awake with the image of his face, skin peeling off, imprinted behind her eyes, like when you stare at a light for too long. She would close her eyes and—<em>Brooke</em>—and hear his voice—<em>Brooke</em>—and hear him calling her name—</p>
<p>
  <em>Brooke!</em>
</p>
<p>And someone would be shaking her. Sam, Dean, Bobby.</p>
<p>Never Castiel—</p>
<p><em>Brooke</em>—</p>
<p>And she would sleep, again—<em>that cold, high laughter</em>—and wake, and eat, and wander, and fall unconscious—</p>
<p>
  <em>This is what you made me. Us. You could have stopped it all, if you hadn't kept my secrets—</em>
</p>
<p>Wake up. Eat. Wander. Force herself to shower. Cry. Close her eyes—<em>Brooke</em>—</p>
<p>
  <em>You did this to me, you whore… Angel Whore.</em>
</p>
<p>Wake screaming, wake sweating, shaking, fall asleep, see his face, wake up, see his face. "Castiel," she would whisper.</p>
<p><em>NOT ANYMORE</em>—</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>Brooke gasped like she had been trapped underwater for minutes, and sat bolt upright on the couch. He was here. He was <em>here</em>. Or she was hallucinating his presence now, just as she had begun to hear his voice while awake. She got up, slowly, off the couch, trembling, and walked into the kitchen, one step at a time, terrified at what she would find there.</p>
<p>He stood, leaning against a doorway, <em>covered in blood</em>, his face raw and red and peeling. He saw her, his eyes met hers.</p>
<p>She screamed like a banshee and backed up so fast that she fell, landing hard, and sat on the ground, staring at him. This… <em>nightmare</em>, come to life. "No," she said, the last vestiges of her sanity slipping. "You can't be here. You can't—get out."</p>
<p>Sam and Dean went to her, trying to explain, trying to pick her up off the floor.</p>
<p>Those blue eyes in that raw face.</p>
<p>"GET OUT!" she screamed.</p>
<p>Dean slapped her, hard. Her head jerked to the side, pain blossoming in her face. "Focus!" he growled. "We gotta go, or I'm leavin' you here."</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke stared at Castiel as he sat, slumped over, in the lab. They had all returned to the place where he had initially absorbed all those souls.</p>
<p>Brooke was not okay. She was barely holding it together, wanting nothing more than to get as far away from this creature as possible, yet unable to tear her eyes away from him. He had stopped looking at her some time ago, for every time he had, she had flinched violently. He had tried speaking to her, tried apologizing, but all she could hear that crazed laughter from her nightmares.</p>
<p>Time passed. Brooke continued to stare at his face, eyes flicking from one spot of raw, red flesh to another. Tracing the blood. The creature who had once been Castiel accidentally looked at her again, attracted to her gaze. Brooke tore her eyes away and turned around, but exposing her back to him made her feel like he was about to pounce on her from behind, so she quickly turned around again.</p>
<p>Eventually, everything was set to open the door to Purgatory once more, so that the creature could release all of those souls and become Castiel again. Maybe. But nothing was ever that easy.</p>
<p>He stood up, swaying on his feet, before the sigil that Dean had drawn on the wall. Bobby spoke the words of the spell. The creature collapsed. Brooke, despite everything screaming inside her not to touch him, lunged forward, but Dean reached him first. He picked the creature up, set him on his feet, and backed away. Brooke stood, rigidly, staring at the creature's back.</p>
<p>He turned back, once. "I'm sorry, Dean," he said, looking at the Winchester. Then his eyes traveled to Brooke. "I'm sorry," he repeated.</p>
<p>Brooke looked away.</p>
<p>The door to Purgatory opened, tearing at the wall of the lab, and the souls exploded out of the creature's body, pouring back through into Purgatory. Brooke shut her eyes against the light.</p>
<p>It was over quickly, and when she opened her eyes again, Castiel lay on the ground, seemingly passed out. Possibly dead. But it was not Castiel. She could feel <em>things</em> crawling around inside him, still.</p>
<p>"Cass?" Dean yelled, and he and Bobby lunged forward to see if the creature was all right.</p>
<p>"It's not Cass!" Brooke shouted. "Stay away from it!"</p>
<p>The two men turned to stare at her, confused.</p>
<p>"What are you talking about?" Dean asked. "He released the souls—</p>
<p>"Not all of them!" Brooke said, backing away slowly, trembling. "Something is still <em>in there</em>."</p>
<p>Bobby and Dean turned to stare down at Castiel, whose face had healed itself. Then his eyes opened.</p>
<p>"Cass?" Dean said.</p>
<p>"We need to leave!" Brooke shouted.</p>
<p>"Shut up!" Dean snapped.</p>
<p>Brooke stared down at the body of Castiel as the angel came to. He sat up, stared around at them all. He saw her, looking at him, and his head tilted to the side, eyes squinting in that endearing way she had loved. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice his own.</p>
<p>Brooke burst into tears, and ran. If Bobby and Dean did not want to believe her, that was their loss. But she was not going to stick around for the inevitable.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke hovered by the car, with half a mind to simply drive away without them all. She hugged herself and rocked back and forth, trying to hold onto what was left of her mind.</p>
<p>The creature—or <em>creatures</em>—that had taken over Castiel's body, appeared at the entrance to the lab.</p>
<p>Brooke gasped and ran around to the other side of the car, using it as protection. Not that doing something like that would do any good. Whatever was still inside Castiel was wrong. She stared at it, dripping black goo from every orifice—from his brain, even. It dripped down from his hairline. The creature did not notice her. It walked right past her. She stood and stared at it as it went.</p>
<p>Bobby, Sam, and Dean appeared soon afterwards.</p>
<p>"Where did he go?" Dean demanded.</p>
<p>Brooke simply pointed.</p>
<p>All three of them ran off without her.</p>
<p>She hesitated, still wanting to get in the car and drive away, but part of her was morbidly curious to see where the creature could possibly be going. She went after the four of them, hovering far behind.</p>
<p>The creature had gone to a lake. A reservoir. Brooke slowly approached the others, just to see what was happening. They all seemed to have stopped near the gate, and they were staring out at the reservoir, silently. Brooke came and stood between Dean and Bobby.</p>
<p>Castiel—the creatures inside him—walked out into the center of the lake, slowly emerging himself. Themselves. She watched as his shoulder disappeared underwater, and then his head, and he was gone.</p>
<p>The water began to swirl around and around, as if being sucked through a giant drain in the bottom of the reservoir. Then the swirling stopped the water turned black, spreading across the whole of the lake. It looked like squid ink—like the entire lake had turned into squid ink. Then it all vanished, and the water went back to normal. Or… at least, it <em>looked</em> normal.</p>
<p>Brooke stood, waiting for Castiel's head to pop back up above the water. Something with in herself had shifted, had changed, after the squid ink stuff had gone away. The Grace in her body, which had been so riled up the past few days, screaming in distress, had quieted. Brooke did not know what that meant.</p>
<p>After a time, Dean bent down and picked something up out of the water. It was Castiel's trench coat, soaked and dripping.</p>
<p>Brooke stared at it, then gazed out at the water again, searching for Castiel. She reached out with her mind, but felt nothing. Still, the Grace in her body was still and silent and calm, for the first time in days.</p>
<p>"You dumb son of a bitch," Dean muttered, holding Castiel's coat, still.</p>
<p>"No," Brooke said. "I don't think he's dead…"</p>
<p>"Do you see him anywhere?" Dean snapped at her. "He would have come up by now."</p>
<p>Brooke just shook her head, still gazing out at the water.</p>
<p>"We need to go now," Bobby said. "Those things'll be comin' up for air soon."</p>
<p>They all turned away, but Brooke stayed where she was, watching the water.</p>
<p>"Come on, girl," Bobby said, his voice gentle and pleading.</p>
<p>She shook her head. "Leave me here."</p>
<p>"Don't be stupid!" Dean said.</p>
<p>Brooke felt the Grace in her blood come riling to the surface as she whipped around to face them all. Her vision went white, her blood boiling. "<em>I said leave me here</em>!" she screamed.</p>
<p>They were shocked into silence, staring at her, as she panted and brought the Grace back under control. That, right there, had to be a sign that Castiel was still alive. She had a feeling that if he died, his Grace would die with him, even that within her. She stared between the three of them, challengingly. After a moment, they all turned and left her.</p>
<p>She faced the water again, and sat down to wait.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>An hour passed, maybe two. Brooke was just starting to think that she was crazy. That she was only <em>hoping</em> that Castiel was still alive. But every time she reached within herself, she could still feel his Grace, humming peacefully, as if he were merely sleeping, right below the surface of the reservoir. It was possible that any Grace he had given her could still function even if he was dead. But she did not let herself think of that. Nothing mattered now, anyway. Her life was in shambles as it was, and the three men she considered family, besides Castiel, had left her there. She had told them to, yes, but it had hurt that they had not really fought her on it. That might have had something to do with her creepy glowing eyes at the time, though.</p>
<p>Despite everything that had happened over the course of the last year, and more recently, Castiel was all she really had left. Sure, she could call her mother. But she and her mother had only grown close artificially in the year that Castiel had left. Brooke had used Rebecca to fill the void in herself, and the moment that Castiel had returned, Rebecca had scattered to the wind. They had stopped calling each other months ago.</p>
<p>Right here, right now, Castiel was all she had. So she sat, and waited, and prayed.</p>
<p>Another hour passed. The sun was setting, now. She was cold and hungry, and giving up hope…</p>
<p>There was a loud splash, nearby. Brooke jumped, her mind having gone into a sort of trance state, and looked over at where the noise had originated—</p>
<p>—Castiel was crawling up onto the shore, naked.</p>
<p>Brooke cried out, and he looked up at her, squinting. He opened his mouth to speak, but coughed, instead.</p>
<p>Brooke scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding, and ran to him, tears blurring her vision. She started to speak his name, falling to her knees beside him, reaching out for him. Her hand touched his shoulder and—</p>
<p>—a loud, bell-like sound exploded in her head, as if she'd stuck her head inside a church bell as it was ringing. She blacked out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>PART TWO</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Twelve</em>
</p>
<p>She awoke in the dark, being held by someone. She sat up, unsure of her surroundings. The person holding her allowed her space, letting go of her. She turned to look at him, and stared in shock at what she was seeing. Though faint, she could see that the man was… glowing, warm golden light suffused across the surface of his skin. And he had… <em>wings</em>. They shimmered in the air at his back, there, but not there at the same time. His eyes, infused with the same light as the rest of him, were blue, and beautiful. He gazed at her in concern, watching her every move, as if afraid she would hurt herself.</p>
<p>She could feel tears in her eyes, and they ran down her face as she continued to stare at him. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and a sense of peace and calm seemed to exude from his being.</p>
<p>"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice deep and gravelly, but so gentle that it was heartbreaking.</p>
<p>But she gasped at hearing it, for she heard it not just out loud, but… in her mind. And the voice that spoke in her mind was powerful and piercing and… right. She stared at this man—if that was what he truly was—and slowly lifted a hand to touch his face. As if on instinct, he leaned into her hand, eyes closing for a moment, as if enjoying the sensation of her touch. His eyes opened again, slowly, and gazed at her with a look so full of contentment that it caused her to want to lay back in the grass and sleep.</p>
<p>"Who are you?" she whispered.</p>
<p>"I… I don't know," he replied, though he did not seem very bothered by this fact.</p>
<p>It was then that she realized… She did not know who <em>she</em> was, either. She racked her mind, panicking, trying to remember her own name. Why couldn't she remember—</p>
<p>"Shhh." He pulled her into his arms again and held her, reacting immediately to the alarm building up in her mind. "It's all right," he murmured, gently.</p>
<p>And, suddenly, it did not matter that she didn't remember her name. They could be nameless together. Somehow, despite remembering nothing, and no one, she knew that this man was connected to her. And he knew it, too, for she could hear his thoughts, loving and protective, flow through her mind, working to soothe her. She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around him, and let him hold her.</p>
<p>But they could not stay there forever. Despite not remembering who she was, she knew enough to understand that being naked in a public place was probably not the best idea. Neither of them had any idea what he had been doing in the reservoir, but they couldn't stay there all night.</p>
<p>They stood up in tandem, and she held onto his arm for a moment, steadying herself. Her legs were numb from sitting for so long. Then she pulled her jacket off and handed it to him. "Wrap that around your waist," she said.</p>
<p>He did as she instructed, turning and pulling until he was mostly covered.</p>
<p>She stood back to study him, and shook her head a little. "That's not gonna work," she muttered. "Especially since you're all… glowy."</p>
<p>He looked at the ground, and she could feel his sadness at having become a burden which she had to care for.</p>
<p>"Don't," she said, gently, touching his face.</p>
<p>He raised his face to look at her, his blue eyes very intense, focused on her as she spoke.</p>
<p>"Look, whoever we are… we clearly knew each other, before. And we were close. We should both be terrified right now, at having lost our memories, yet, somehow, I am completely calm. And it's because <em>you're</em> here." She smiled at him. "You're the only reason I haven't gone insane yet, so don't… don't feel bad. We'll go get you some clothes from a Walmart and then… figure out what to do next."</p>
<p>She smiled and shook her head. "How do I know what a Walmart is, but I can't remember my own name…?" she mused.</p>
<p>She felt, in his mind, the sympathy and empathy he had for her, for he did not know who he was, either. The two of them were alone in the world, save each other. She took his hand, and they began to walk.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>They walked for hours, having no idea where they were going. She was both grateful and annoyed that it was nighttime. It wasn't very late, yet, judging by the amount of cars driving down the roads. Not wanting anyone to see the strange, naked man walking with her, she kept him on the inside of the sidewalks, and as far from the cars as possible. But hiding him this way was becoming stressful, and she did not know what would happen if they had to physically pass someone walking down the sidewalk. They'd been lucky, so far, but—</p>
<p>She cursed under her breath, immediately regretting that she had even had the thought about someone else walking down the sidewalk with the two of them. God, it seemed, was taunting her. Coming towards her, up ahead, was a man. Heart pounding in her chest, she turned and nearly rammed her naked partner into the fence to their right, praying to God that the man up ahead would simply walk past without, somehow, noticing the naked man with the jacket tied around his waist.</p>
<p>She squeezed her eyes shut, and also squeezed her partner's hand, hard, too tired and dealing with too many other things at the moment to have deal with <em>this </em>on top of everything else.</p>
<p>The man walked past them without slowing down.</p>
<p>She opened her eyes and watched him go. He had not even seemed to notice them. She turned to look at her partner—</p>
<p>He was not there. She stared at the spot where he had been standing a moment before, but he was nowhere to be found. Yet… She looked down and saw her hand, curled, still, around… an invisible hand?</p>
<p>Suddenly, he appeared before her, again, as if he had never left. She blinded at him, dazed. "Did you just turn invisible?" she asked, faintly.</p>
<p>"I… I think so," he replied, brows drawing together in confusion.</p>
<p>"So, you glow… you have wings… you're telepathic. Now you can <em>turn invisible</em>?" She stared at him, shaking her head slowly. "Are you sure you're human?"</p>
<p>His mind was troubled as he answered, "I'm not sure of anything."</p>
<p>She regretted having worded everything like that, and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You've got me," she said. "Be sure of <em>that</em>."</p>
<p>He smiled gently, and nodded once.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Somehow—she chose to believe it was divine intervention—they found a twenty-four-hour Walmart. The twenty-four-hour part was good because, at this point, she had no idea what time it was, and no real way to estimate it, other than by the fact that there were less people on the roads and sidewalks. There were a couple dozen cars parked in the Walmart parking lot, but most of those were probably employees.</p>
<p>It wasn't until they reached the parking lot that she remembered that, in order to buy things, one needed money. Awkwardly, she patted her pockets, and felt a wallet in the back pocket of her Jeans. Standing under a street light, she pulled the wallet out and went through it, wondering why she hadn't thought to do this before. She could probably find out who she was! Heart pounding, she stared down at her driver's license. Brooke Harris. She expected to feel some kind of recognition, but no such feeling washed over her.</p>
<p>The man with the wings and the light stood beside her, silently offering moral support.</p>
<p>Pushing aside the anxiety slowly building in her chest, she went through the different sections in the wallet; she had a little over a hundred dollars in cash, and multiple credit cards. "Well, we're not hurting for money," she muttered. Then she pulled out one of the credit cards and squinted at it. The name on the credit card was <em>not</em> Brooke Harris. She yanked out another card; this name was neither Brooke Harris, nor the name on the other card. "Oh my God," she said. "I'm a criminal."</p>
<p>She stared at the cards, her mind spinning. Should she throw the wallet away? Was the cash even hers? If she had stolen credit cards, then… She looked, again, at the driver's license. It had her face on it, so maybe it <em>was</em> hers, and her name really <em>was</em>Brooke Harris… Yet the name still struck no chord within her.</p>
<p>In the end, she stuffed the wallet back into her Jeans pocket, realizing she must be wearing men's Jeans if the back pocket was even big enough for a wallet. She didn't remember seeing a purse anywhere near her when she awoke in her partner's arms. The jacket she had given him had been big on her, too. She walked up to the Walmart entrance, simultaneously trying to put an image of herself together and wondering if she should be using any of the money she had found.</p>
<p>Her partner, invisible beside her, placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing him into her mind, allowing that sense of peace and purpose to wash over her. One thing at a time. She needed to get him some clothes, and whether the money in her wallet was hers, it was all she had. She took a breath and entered the store.</p>
<p><em>Okay, underwear first</em>…</p>
<p>She gazed at the signs hanging above each section of the Walmart and found what she was looking for, marching forward as if she belonged in the Men's Clothing section. After getting underwear and socks (fifteen and eleven dollars, respectively), she went over to the shirts. He was walking along beside her, still invisible, but she could see a kind of glittery outline of him if she squinted hard enough.</p>
<p><em>What do you like?</em> she asked.</p>
<p>He stared around at the options, but nothing seemed to be calling out to him. <em>I… I'm not sure what I like.</em></p>
<p>She riffled through t-shirts and long-sleeved shirts, wandering through shelves and stands. <em>Something plain</em>, she thought. <em>I can't see you wearing some t-shirt with the name of a band across the front, or something…</em></p>
<p>He did not respond in words, but there was a feeling of silent agreement in his mind.</p>
<p>Eventually, they landed on a simple, black, fleece, long-sleeved shirt. Eight dollars. She held it up against him, aware that no one else could see him, so she was going to look insane to anyone walking by, but there wasn't much of a choice. She had to see if it would fit him, and he couldn't <em>put it on</em> in the store. It looked good enough, she supposed.</p>
<p><em>You gonna need a jacket, or something?</em> she asked him.</p>
<p><em>I don't… think so,</em> he replied, slowly. <em>I don't feel cold.</em></p>
<p>She stared at him, completely naked other than the jacket tied around his waist. <em>You don't feel cold?</em></p>
<p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p>
<p>She shook her head, moving on to the pants. <em>I shouldn't be surprised</em>, she told him. <em>Just another strange ability you have.</em> She wondered, then, why she wasn't more freaked out by him, but somehow, being freaked out—or afraid—of this man was so far outside of what felt natural that she couldn't even conjure minor concern. Clearly, back when they'd both had their memories, they had known each other for some time, and she was sure she had already known about his strange powers.</p>
<p>They spent another fifteen minutes in the store, and ended up with: socks, underwear, one long-sleeved shirt, one pair of Jeans, one pair of shoes. Together, with tax, it was about seventy dollars. Most of her money, if she wasn't counting the stolen credit cards—and she <em>wasn't</em>.</p>
<p>Before leaving the store, she went to the restroom, taking the bag in with her since it would seem weird to leave it outside the restroom where someone could steal it. Her partner, of course, would watch over the bag, but no one would <em>see</em> him. After coming out of the bathroom, she went over to the drinking fountain, and started to bend down to drink from it.</p>
<p>
  <em>Stop!</em>
</p>
<p>She jumped, and immediately stopped. <em>W-What?</em> she asked, turning to stare at him, even though she knew it made her look crazy.</p>
<p><em>There's… there's something wrong with the water</em>, he said. <em>I can smell it. Don't drink it.</em></p>
<p>She turned and stared down at the drinking fountain. <em>Broken sewage pipe?</em> she wondered.</p>
<p><em>No</em>, he said, coming near and pressing down on the button so that it looked like the water had come on by itself. He bent down and stared at the water. After a few seconds, it turned black.</p>
<p>"Oh, <em>nasty</em>!" she said, backing away from the drinking fountain. "Water bottle it is, then."</p>
<p>Later, as she paid for her water, and a protein bar she had added as an afterthought, she told the cashier about the drinking fountain. The young man said he would tell a manager, but she wasn't sure he was being honest with her. She grabbed her water and protein bar and walked out of the store.</p>
<p>She had her partner—she really needed to think of a better word—change behind the Walmart, out of sight of the security cameras. Nothing fit him, exactly. He was a mouse of a man—strange, for the power he held within him—and she had a feeling any clothing she gave him would somehow look too big on him. But he looked much better than he <em>had</em>. He also gave her back her jacket, for which she was grateful. She pulled it on. Vaguely, she worried that the chemicals in the unwashed clothes would irritate him—especially in the boxers—but she assumed that a man with wings and glowing skin and the ability to turn invisible probably wouldn't be bothered by something like that.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>With nowhere else to go, and not wanting to use stolen credit cards to pay for a motel room, they wandered about, looking for a homeless shelter. It was all she could come up with, but the night dragged on and they found no such shelter. They had, on the other hand, passed a church a ways back. It had been closed, but…</p>
<p>They returned to the church, a simple, small building on a corner, and sat on the steps. It would be a shitty night, but in the morning, someone from the church would come and be able to point them in some direction. The police were considered briefly, but they'd want to know who the two of them were, by name, and they did not have names, or any paperwork. The police might be able to discover who they were, which almost made her take them around to find a police station… but she kept remembering the stolen credit cards in her wallet. The last thing she wanted was to finally discover who she was, only to be thrown into a cell a moment later.</p>
<p>They sat down on the cold steps and she stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets. There was a phone in one of the pockets. She pulled it out and clicked a button, but nothing happened. The battery was probably dead, and there was no way to charge it. Much like with the credit cards in her wallet, she wasn't sure she wanted to know what was in this phone. She stared at it for a while, then put it back into her pocket.</p>
<p>Despite the jacket, she was beginning to get cold. Walking had kept her heart rate up, somewhat, but now there was nothing to keep the cold from seeping into her bones.</p>
<p>The man sitting beside her, the only person keeping her from having a meltdown from all of this, wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against his side. He radiated warmth, and seemed to push that warmth through and into her. "Thanks," she murmured, and began to feel sleepy. Her eyelids drooped, and right before she fell asleep, she slid down the front of his body, her head resting in his lap. He placed a warm hand atop her head, fingers brushing through her hair.</p>
<p>She slept.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Before going forward, I want to make it clear that the beliefs of my OC, or any beliefs I put onto the characters owned by CW, do not reflect my personal beliefs. This includes religious beliefs, among any others, and I am never trying to bash other people's religious beliefs. I'm a very open person in real life, and my point is never to offend anyone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Thirteen</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>She wandered through the hazy house full of people with their backs turned to her, calling out to each of them, but none of them reacted. She didn't know what she was doing here. "Please," she called out. "Hello? Can someone please talk to me!" She grabbed at their clothes, but they all shook her off. Finally, she grabbed one by the shoulder and spun him around. His head was a mass of flesh with no features—eyeless, mouthless, noseless, earless. She screeched and let go of him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>One by one, they all began to turn around, shambling towards her like zombies. And none of them had faces. They closed in around her, and she began to suffocate, crushed in the mass of faceless bodies. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wake up!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>She spun around, and saw him—the man with the light and the wings. But he was smiling strangely, his eyes and mouth too wide, like the Joker. And there was black goo dripping from every orifice in his face, and from his hairline, like it was coming out of his brain.</em>
</p>
<p>"Wake up!"</p>
<p>She came awake with a gasp, sweating, and sat up, holding her head in her hands. She looked up after a moment, and jumped, seeing his face, half-expecting that crazed smile and strange black ooze to be dripping from his hairline. Instead, he looked exceedingly normal (aside from the glowy-ness and the shimmer of wings behind him, like a mirage in the desert). His face held nothing but concern for her.</p>
<p>He reached out gently and touched her face, his fingers trembling a little. "Are you all right?" he asked.</p>
<p>She looked into his eyes and saw such genuine, loving concern, so heartbreakingly pure, that she leaned forward and kissed him.</p>
<p>He inhaled sharply, and almost pulled away, but relaxed almost immediately. He returned the kiss, reaching up and holding her face in his hands. Her body seemed to hum at his touch and closeness, a feeling she had been subconsciously aware of this whole time, but had not truly noticed until now. And suddenly, that quiet mouse of a man he had been was replaced by a man full of utter confidence and power. Light poured into her mind like an ocean wave crashing down onto her—but one that she welcomed. All she knew was him, and all she thought were his thoughts:</p>
<p><em>You are mine</em>, he told her. <em>And I am yours. This is all I know, and it is all that matters.</em></p>
<p><em>Yes,</em> she replied, though her own voice was so small and nearly swept away in the vastness of him.</p>
<p>And it was nothing to be worried or confused about. It was all either of them knew, and they clung to this knowledge like a lifeline. They pulled away from each other enough to look at one another, and the look he was giving her was one of complete love and understanding, as if they had known each other for a hundred years.</p>
<p>"Am I interrupting something?"</p>
<p>She nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice off to her left. She had forgotten, momentarily, that other people existed in the world. She turned her head and saw a man standing before them, a bemused expression on his face. He was holding a large box of donuts.</p>
<p>As one being, the two of them stood up. She was a little wobbly in the legs and stiff everywhere else from sleeping on concrete all night. But her partner… husband? soulmate? placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, and she felt the stiffness in her body melt away.</p>
<p><em>I enjoy thinking of myself as your husband</em>, he murmured, once again gentle and demure—but underneath, a glimmer of power, of untapped strength.</p>
<p>His thought distracted her away from the man still standing and staring at them. Fantastical thoughts of crazy weddings in faraway locations filled her head.</p>
<p><em>If it would make you happy</em>, he said, smiling.</p>
<p>"Um," said the man, still staring at them.</p>
<p>She turned back to look at him, feeling a bit of whiplash from moving between the heaven of her <em>husband's</em> mind and the Earth.</p>
<p>"Sorry," she said, a little breathlessly. "We…" She tried to recall what they were even doing there. "We need help. We…" She should have thought more about this. Even a preacher would have <em>some</em> questions. "We recently found ourselves… homeless." Not a lie.</p>
<p>The man—whether a preacher or not, she did not know—gazed at them with pity. He approached them and placed a hand on her shoulder. She wondered, wildly, whether he had noticed the fact that her husband's body glowed from the inside, and that strange, ethereal wings sprouted from his shoulders. If the man <em>did</em> notice, he was doing an exceptional job of pretending otherwise.</p>
<p>"Come inside," he said. "It's cold out here so early in the morning."</p>
<p>They followed him inside the church.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>They spent some time sitting in a pew. The man who had allowed them in had, in fact, been the preacher, which is why he'd had the key. It was Sunday, apparently, so he was there before the nine a.m. sermon to prepare.</p>
<p><em>Sunday</em>, she thought, cementing the day of the week into her brain, as if afraid it would be whisked away from her memory like everything else had been. Her hands were pressed together between her legs as she sat in the pew, something she was doing out of nervousness, she supposed. She felt at home in this church, but wasn't at all prepared for any questions the preacher might ask the two of them.</p>
<p><em>We need names</em>, she thought, suddenly, and a twinge of discomfort entered her brain as she remembered the conundrum of the stolen credit cards in her wallet. All those different names…</p>
<p><em>You still don't remember your name, do you?</em> she asked the man who sat beside her.</p>
<p><em>No,</em> he said, quietly.</p>
<p>And she realized that they had been communicating telepathically for the past few seconds. She knew that the telepathy should freak her out—they'd been doing it since yesterday—but it did not. Like everything else about her connection to the man with glowing skin and the wings, it all felt surprisingly natural. It was, as he had said outside, all she knew.</p>
<p><em>You were happy to think of yourself as my husband, </em>she mused, <em>yet we don't even remember our own names, let alone each other's. </em></p>
<p><em>You may call me whatever you wish</em>, came his quiet reply.</p>
<p>She smiled and placed one hand on top of his. <em>You should name yourself, since </em>you'll<em> have to live with it.</em> She felt his mind begin to work, sifting through different names that were in his brain. Almost immediately, a name came to the surface: Dean.</p>
<p>He physically flinched, and held his head in one hand, grimacing.</p>
<p>She stared at him in concern. Something about that name had caused him pain…</p>
<p><em>Did you just remember something?</em> she asked, not sure why else a name would cause him physical pain.</p>
<p>He was slowly shaking his head, his eyes downcast and searching, though not looking at anything. <em>I… I think I saw a flash of something, but… It's gone now.</em> He was straining his mind, trying to recall whatever the memory had been, but a headache was starting to form in in his temples.</p>
<p><em>Maybe you shouldn't force it</em>, she said, gently, squeezing his hand. <em>Maybe it'll come when it's… when it's meant to.</em></p>
<p>He glanced at her, and nodded once, releasing the tension in his mind, releasing the foggy tangle of a memory he had almost found. The headache began to fade immediately.</p>
<p>They sat quietly for a while, and then she asked, <em>Do you… Do you think that was your name?</em> She was almost afraid to think it, but did, anyways. <em>Dean? </em></p>
<p>He shook his head, no. He squinted, head tilting to the side as he thought.</p>
<p>She giggled as she watched him; he looked so much like a puppy—</p>
<p>A thousand memories, little images, of that exact head tilt fell into her brain. She squeezed her eyes shut as they flitted past her eyelids. She <em>had</em> known him before, and for a long time, it seemed. Now a headache began to bloom in her own head. She took a deep breath and released the memories, forcing herself not to go searching for more. After a moment, the headache faded.</p>
<p>She opened her eyes. He was staring at her in concern, studying her face, his eyes so wide and earnest that she, once again, felt that outpouring of love for him. "I'm fine," she said aloud; her voice cracked and sounded too loud in the quiet church. She touched his face.</p>
<p>He closed his eyes at her touch and bowed his head, looking like a man praying. She marveled at the gentleness of him, hiding so perfectly the power that flowed in his veins. Hiding it from everyone but her. Touching his face, she could feel thrumming in her body, like she had suddenly become aware of the blood inside her, flowing through her. But it was more than that. Somehow, without being able to see it, she knew that she carried some of that same light that <em>he</em> had within herself. She knew it on an instinctive level, just as she knew how to breathe, or speak, or walk.</p>
<p>He opened his eyes, gazing at her, listening to her thoughts. His eyes were very blue.</p>
<p>A thrill went through her at the way he looked at her. He tilted his head again, wondering at that feeling. A flash of a thought was shared between them, something secret and sexual. His eyes became more intense, and seemed to trap her in place. That hum in her blood and bones sped up, matching the hum inside him.</p>
<p>She pulled her hand away from his face, remembering that they were in a church. <em>Not the time or place</em>, she murmured, though she was not exactly bothered by his attentions.</p>
<p>He kept his eyes on her for a moment, and she could <em>feel</em> them roaming her face, her body. Then, he calmed, and the hum in her veins slowed again.</p>
<p>Feeling a little like she needed to repent for… whatever had just happened, she reached down and pulled the Bible out of the slot in the pew in front of her. She held it, closed, in her hands and tried to think of a verse or two that fit their strange situation. Here they sat, in a House of the Lord, homeless and without memory, yet they were unafraid. One of them had strange powers and wings, and light poured forth from within his body. She thought about all of these things, strange and miraculous, and murmured:</p>
<p>"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. / He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. / He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake…"</p>
<p>Beside her, the man she had accepted in only seconds as her husband, spoke the words with her: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. / Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. / Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."</p>
<p>She turned to look at him as they finished reciting Psalm 23, gazing at him in wonder. "We don't remember our names, but we can recite entire psalms by memory," she said.</p>
<p>"Psalm 23 <em>is</em> very popular," said the preacher, coming over to their pew. "Still, it's impressive that you could recite it so cleanly."</p>
<p>She looked up at the man, wondering if he had been watching them and their strange, silent conversation. He was holding two donuts out, wrapped in napkins. She took one, and after a moment, her husband reached out and took the other. She bit into hers immediately; he simply stared at it, as if he had never seen food before.</p>
<p>"Aren't you hungry?" she asked, realizing that she was starving as she said it.</p>
<p>He continued to stare at the donut. "No," he said, his voice soft.</p>
<p>She studied his face. "You should eat, anyways," she said. "We don't know when or where we'll get our next meal."</p>
<p>He hesitated, and she felt a spike of disgust in his mind, but he bit into the donut. A small bite, like a mouse. Immediately, he grimaced, swallowed, and did not bite into it again.</p>
<p>She tilted her head, watching his face. "What is it?" she asked.</p>
<p>"I… don't know," he murmured. "It tastes… strange. Overwhelming."</p>
<p>She sucked in a breath through her teeth, massaging a temple with her fingers as a short memory flitted across her mind: Him, sitting in a car in the passenger seat, licking caramel off of his thumb and making that same grimace.</p>
<p><em>I… don't think you eat</em>, she said, speaking only in her mind, for the preacher was watching them both, closely.</p>
<p><em>No</em>, he agreed. <em>I don't think I eat.</em></p>
<p>She shook her head. <em>What are you?</em></p>
<p>The preacher interrupted them. "What are your names?" His voice was not accusatory, but she had to stop herself from flinching at the question.</p>
<p>Did they lie? Make up names? Or tell him the truth: that they had lost their memories?</p>
<p>She knew now, from experience, that trying to <em>force</em> the memories to come was not good. "I…" she began, with every intention of telling him the truth. "Ruth," she said, instead. The name had come to her like breathing. Somehow, she knew it was not her true name, but it <em>felt</em> right, somehow.</p>
<p>Another memory flashed across her mind, a Bible quote: And Ruth said, Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.</p>
<p>Her husband's mind was working, spinning, for the thought of names seemed to have caught him off guard. Many names began to pour into his head, but with no memories attached: Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, Raphael… The names of angels. Archangels. He squinted, staring into his lap, a headache forming once again.</p>
<p>She squeezed one of his hands. <em>Don't force it</em>, she warned.</p>
<p>He shook his head, for none of those names were his own, and he did not have it within him to lie. He looked up at the preacher, who was now staring at the two of them with open confusion. "I don't remember my name," he said, and his voice was sad and ashamed, as if forgetting himself had been his own fault.</p>
<p>The preacher pursed his lips. He looked between the two of them for a moment, and then he said, in a gentle but firm tone, "I think you'd better tell me what's really going on."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Fourteen</em>
</p>
<p>They told the minister <em>mostly</em> everything, even going so far as to show him that the man with wings could turn invisible. After that, the preacher took everything much more seriously and listened with rapt attention to their story. He agreed not to go to the police with such a story; no one would believe him, first of all, but more importantly, he believed that they had come to his church for a reason.</p>
<p>That was the good thing about going to religious people with serious problems: they always believed <em>things happened for a reason</em>, and tended to look at the spiritual solutions more than the practical ones.</p>
<p>The minister believed that <em>Ruth</em> (the name still did not feel like her real name, but the sentiment behind it was the realest thing she knew) and her husband were <em>special</em>. He believed that her husband, especially, could use his gifts for good, to help the world. She didn't know how the ability to turn invisible could really help anyone—she couldn't see her husband becoming a spy for the government—but the preacher insisted that he might have other "gifts," ones that neither of them had yet discovered.</p>
<p>What the preacher knew: He did not eat or sleep (he had stayed awake all night on the steps of the church); he could turn invisible; he had a strangely deep connection with Ruth; he had lost his memories upon waking up at the bottom of the reservoir (he did not need to breathe).</p>
<p>What the preacher did not know: He was a man made of light; he held the vastness of a universe inside his body; he was telepathic and empathic, at least with Ruth; he had wings that could phase through objects without disturbing them, and they looked like no wings that Ruth had ever seen on any bird.</p>
<p>Their conversation had lasted about twenty minutes, but then other people had begun to trickle into the church to get there before the nine a.m. sermon. The minister had left them alone to go and greet the other members of the congregation. Ruth and her husband sat in the pew and tried not to make eye contact with anyone else, for what would they say? They had lost their memories, and only one among them had a name, which was not even the correct name.</p>
<p>On a whim, Ruth handed the Bible to her husband. <em>Open it to a random page and find a name</em>, she said. <em>As long as it's not something weird, like Enoch, that's what we'll call you</em>.</p>
<p>He stared at her. <em>Enoch</em>, he repeated, and then squeezed his eyes shut as pain flared in his head. <em>Enochian…</em> After a moment, the pain went away, and he shook his head.</p>
<p>
  <em>Did you remember something?</em>
</p>
<p><em>No… It slipped away before I could grasp it.</em> He sighed, and then looked down at the Bible in his hands. Taking a breath, he opened it to a random page and began to read it, his fingers trailing down in a straight line as he read the verses. He paused.</p>
<p>She leaned closer to him in the pew, reading over his shoulder: "Now all this was done, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying, / Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us." Matthew 1:22-23.</p>
<p>She smiled, chuckled, shook her head. "Guess we're naming you <em>Jesus</em>," she muttered. "Or a version of his name." In her head, she muttered, <em>What are the odds? Seems fitting, somehow. What with you having special powers, and all.</em></p>
<p>He grimaced. <em>I don't necessarily feel comfortable naming myself after the son of God.</em></p>
<p>She smiled. <em>I wouldn't feel comfortable with it, either. We can change it, if you want—</em></p>
<p>"Hi, there," said a friendly voice.</p>
<p>They looked up to see a woman smiling at them.</p>
<p>"Pastor Kenny told me we'd have two new faces in the pews today. I'm Daphne. It's nice to meet you two." Her voice was warm and inviting, and she held out her hand to them, to shake.</p>
<p>Ruth took it first, a little afraid of what might happen to Daphne if her husband even touched her. The preacher—Pastor Kenny—had not noticed anything strange about him, but Ruth had to assume she couldn't be <em>the only one on the planet</em> who could see or feel the strange things about her husband.</p>
<p>"I'm… Ruth," she said, forcing a smile. "This is my husband…" She did not say a name, for she was not sure whether he had decided on the name Emmanuel or not, and didn't want to force him into it if it made him truly uncomfortable.</p>
<p>Daphne nodded encouragingly at her, and then held out her hand for him.</p>
<p>Taking a very noticeable breath—<em>Try to be less conspicuous</em>, Ruth warned—he reached out and gently grasped her hand.</p>
<p>The world did <em>not</em> explode. They'd gotten through one possible problem, at least.</p>
<p>But Daphne was looking expectantly at him, waiting for a name.</p>
<p>"I'm…" His brain scrambled for a moment, and finally resigned itself to what he had read out of the Book of Matthew. "I'm Emmanuel."</p>
<p>"Two Biblical names," Daphne noted, with interest. "Were your parents religious?"</p>
<p><em>More lies</em>, Ruth thought.</p>
<p><em>I don't like this</em>, Emmanuel muttered.</p>
<p><em>Neither do I</em>. <em>But are we supposed to tell the whole world about your crazy powers and your wings?</em> Aloud, she said, "Yes, our parents were religious. I guess that's how we… found each other." She squeezed his hand. "At church."</p>
<p>Daphne was about to answer, when Pastor Kenny spoke up and said that the sermon was about to begin.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Ruth, who was still getting used to her new name, did not pay much attention to the sermon. She had been lucky to sleep so well the night before, which she knew was directly related to Emmanuel's powers, but she was hungry and needed a shower, and she hadn't had any water since the water bottle she'd drunk last night. She sat beside the man she called her husband, and was a little jealous of his ability to sit so still, to be so content with nothing because he had no apparent human needs. Still, his mind was just as much of a mess as hers was.</p>
<p>He was much more reluctant to lie, compared to her, and she knew that the only reason he had lied at all was because he was following along with what she said.</p>
<p><em>Look, we can't tell everyone about your powers</em>, she told him, gently. <em>It would make problems for us; there'd be a lot of questions we couldn't answer. We could get taken away somewhere, to be studied by the government, or something. It's bad enough that we told the preacher some of it.</em></p>
<p>Emmanuel sighed, closing his eyes, but there was silent acknowledgement in his mind. He was not arguing with her logic; he simply didn't like being put into this situation. There was something in him, something tied to a memory that refused to come loose, that told him that lying was bad. Especially lying to those who were kind to you, those who were your friends. No one here was, exactly, a friend, but the minister had been kind to them, and so had Daphne. As the sermon went on, Emmanuel bowed his head and prayed for forgiveness for lies told earlier, and all the lies he would tell in the future, hiding his true self from the world.</p>
<p>Lying: it was the price of protection. But to do it well, one had to walk a fine line.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Emmanuel sat at Daphne's kitchen table with Ruth, as well as a bunch of other people who had come to the after-church brunch. Ruth, despite having lost many of her memories, somehow knew that this was a common practice among church-going folk. Perhaps her parents really <em>had</em> been religious. She <em>had </em>recited an entire psalm by memory, after all.</p>
<p>Ruth glanced at Emmanuel, and then down to his empty plate. He had not eaten anything during the brunch, since all food, apparently, tasted like <em>molecules</em>. People noticed, eyeing his empty plate just as Ruth was doing now, but no one said anything. At the very least, Emmanuel drank half of his glass of water, keeping his face neutral even as, mentally, he was grimacing. Even <em>water</em> didn't taste right.</p>
<p>He was clutching his hands into fists under the table, so Ruth reached down and squeezed one of his hands. He did not like being around so many people at once—not in this friendly, chatty environment. Church had been one thing. No one had bothered him once the sermon had started, and he had taken comfort from the pastor's message. But now, he was at a loss for what to do. Meek as he was, Ruth could feel the power surging in his body, roiling and vibrating in his veins with more and more turbulence the longer he was forced to sit here in this chair and smile awkwardly at anyone who looked at him.</p>
<p>Ruth was grateful to the woman, Daphne, for inviting her and Emmanuel to have brunch. She was feeling much better with a full stomach and enough water. But with her own needs now met, she was mostly worried about her husband. She was afraid he might literally explode if she didn't get him away from all these people that he did not know.</p>
<p><em>Hold on</em>, she told him.</p>
<p>He looked at her, quizzically, but nodded.</p>
<p>She stood up from the table and went over to where Daphne was sitting. She leaned over and said, quietly, "We're very grateful for the meal, but we may leave early. My husband isn't feeling well."</p>
<p>Daphne turned and smiled at Ruth with such understanding that she was a little taken aback. "Pastor Kenny tells me that you and your husband recently lost your house?"</p>
<p>Ruth shook her head slowly, not wanting to get into this with someone else. "We're fine," she said, and began to move away.</p>
<p>"Please," said Daphne.</p>
<p>Ruth paused.</p>
<p>The woman touched her arm compassionately. "Why don't you and your husband take a walk around the block a few times, and come back when the others have left. We're just finishing up, here."</p>
<p>"Come back…?" Ruth repeated, dumbly.</p>
<p>"Yes," said Daphne, with another smile. "You can help me clear the dishes, and we can discuss your… housing situation."</p>
<p>Ruth stared at her. This woman she hardly knew was offering her and Emmanuel a place to live. To live in <em>her house</em>. She wanted to argue, but there were still people laughing and talking around the table. Now was not the time. "I'll… I'll discuss it with Emmanuel," she muttered, and then made her way back to him.</p>
<p>They left the house probably a little too quickly than was necessary, but between his need to get away from all those people and her need to think about what Daphne had offered them, they did not much care about manners right then. The moment they were out of the house and down the front steps, Emmanuel took a big, deep breath, as if he'd been holding it the whole time they had been in there.</p>
<p>Ruth almost laughed at him, and took his hand, walking down the sidewalk with him. "Not much of a people person, are you?"</p>
<p>"It's… not that," he mused. "I just didn't want to have to lie if someone talked to me."</p>
<p>She shook her head. "Man, whatever you lied about in your past life, it musta fucked somethin' up, real bad."</p>
<p>Emmanuel stopped walking and stared at her.</p>
<p>"What?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Your speech—it changed, just now." He was staring at her with an expression somewhere between horror and fascination.</p>
<p>Ruth hadn't even noticed the change. She didn't feel any different. "Must be the old me sneaking in," she said. "Maybe I'll remember more of who I am."</p>
<p>He was still staring at her strangely.</p>
<p>She gave him a look. "What, you don't want to be my husband now that I've said a <em>naughty word</em>?"</p>
<p>Emmanuel blinked, his face softening. "I don't mind it," he murmured.</p>
<p>"Good," she said.</p>
<p>And they walked.</p>
<p>"Daphne offered to let us stay in her home," Ruth told him.</p>
<p>"I know," Emmanuel replied.</p>
<p>She glanced at him, wondering, for a moment, how he could have heard her quiet conversation over the sounds of all the other people.</p>
<p><em>Here</em>, he said, his voice in her mind.</p>
<p><em>Ah</em>, she said, with a smile. <em>So you eavesdropped.</em></p>
<p>He looked away, uncomfortably.</p>
<p>She laughed softly. <em>I'm joking, you dork. I don't care. </em></p>
<p>He silently acknowledged what she had said, but still felt uncomfortable. He walked along, quietly, for a while, and then asked, aloud, "Does it bother you… our mental connection?"</p>
<p>Immediately, she said, "No," and knew it to be true. "It should, maybe. But it doesn't. Ever since… ever since I woke up, in your arms, at the reservoir… I mean, it was just…" She stopped, and he stopped with her, gazing at her patiently as she put together the right words. "It just <em>felt right</em>, didn't it? Haven't we talked about this?" She touched his face. "Normal people would be freaking out right now, trying to remember who they were, going to a hospital—or a psych ward—to check themselves in. Or going to the police." She shook her head. "I woke up, yesterday, in the arms of a strange, wet, naked man with superpowers, who had crawled out of the reservoir like some sci-fi monster. I should have been terrified, but all I saw when I woke up was… light." She smiled gently at him. "Beautiful, heavenly light—</p>
<p><em>Heavenly</em>.</p>
<p>Both of them winced at the same time as pain bloomed in their heads. It was a strange word to contain a memory of their past selves. They waited for the inevitable images to come flashing into their minds, but the headache dissipated immediately.</p>
<p>"Strange," Emmanuel murmured.</p>
<p>Ruth nodded in silent agreement.</p>
<p>They continued their walk for a little while, and then returned to Daphne's home. A home that would become theirs for the next six months.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Fifteen</em>
</p>
<p>Ruth stood in the bathroom at Daphne's house as the water in the shower heated up. She stared at herself in the mirror, turned around so that her back faced it, with her head thrown over her shoulder. She glanced up at her own face, saw how wide her eyes were.</p>
<p>Steam began to pour from the shower, so she turned and quickly shut off the water. She looked at her back in the mirror again, tracing the gigantic wings—<em>angel</em> wings—with her eyes.</p>
<p>Without realizing she'd been doing it, she was calling out, reaching for Emmanuel with her mind. She didn't know how far the telepathic connection went, but he could certainly hear her from across the house. He entered the bathroom suddenly, paused for a moment with wide eyes at her nakedness, then quickly shut the door. He turned back to her again, swallowing.</p>
<p>"Oh, stop," she said. "I'm sure you've seen me naked before. <em>Look</em>." She turned her back to him, so that he could see the massive tattoo spanning her entire back, her shoulders, the backs of her arms.</p>
<p>He approached her slowly and placed trembling fingers on her skin, tracing the tattoo—</p>
<p>—<em>You've branded yourself</em>.</p>
<p>The memory came quickly and left just as fast. Those three words, spoken in Emmanuel's voice, and nothing more.</p>
<p>After the headache receded, Ruth turned to face him again. "There's more," she muttered, and showed him her arm. A tattoo covered her left forearm on the underside, the soft skin. The language was entirely foreign to her, and did not look like any other language she had seen. The symbols looked less like true symbols and more like chicken scratch, and she couldn't figure why she'd make a tattoo out of the word (words?).</p>
<p>Emmanuel snatched her arm roughly in his hand, bending his head to study to the tattoo.</p>
<p>"What…" she began.</p>
<p>He sucked in a breath between his teeth and held his head in both hands, dropping her arm.</p>
<p>Ruth groaned in pain as his memory was shared with her. A cascade of voices, all different, male and female, young and old, rushed through her brain. And they all said the same word. A name:</p>
<p><em>Castiel</em>.</p>
<p>Three—no, four—voices among the dozens and dozens that they heard also said, simply, <em>Cass</em>. One of the voices was hers.</p>
<p>His head was splitting, and his face was stuck in a grimace, his teeth bared. He held his head in his hands, squeezing his temples with the heels of his hands.</p>
<p>Concerned, and in less pain than he was in, Ruth gently pushed him down. Blindly, he sat on the floor in the bathroom, and she knelt in front of him, her knees digging into the thin bath mat over the tile. She cupped his face in her hands and brought her forehead close to touch his. Together, automatically, they breathed.</p>
<p>After a minute or two, the pain in his head went away, at least, mostly.</p>
<p>He pulled away from her, breathing shakily. His blue eyes, still squinting slightly, in pain, gazed at her face. He reached up and brushed the hair out of her eyes.</p>
<p>"Are you all right?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Physically, yes. I think."</p>
<p>"Well…" she began, slowly. "At least we know your real name, now."</p>
<p>Castiel. Emphasis on the -el. Casti<em>el</em>.</p>
<p>Emmanuel. -El.</p>
<p>Ruth smiled. "What are the odds?"</p>
<p>He rubbed his forehead a little with the heel of his hand. "Maybe it was fate."</p>
<p>"Maybe," she agreed, and sighed. "Maybe I should show you the rest later…"</p>
<p>"The rest?"</p>
<p>Sighing again, she straightened up on her knees, and tapped the tattoo below her navel, right above her bikini line: Angel Whore.</p>
<p>He stared at the words, his head slowly tilting to one side. "Well, <em>that's</em> inappropriate," he murmured.</p>
<p>She laughed. Somehow, it hadn't been the reaction she'd been expecting, though she didn't know what she <em>had</em> been expecting. The laughter died on her lips almost immediately, however. "Listen," she said. "It would seem crazy to say this if we were in any other situation, but I think I know what you are."</p>
<p>His eyes flicked up to look into hers, tearing away from the tattoo right above her vagina. His expression was quizzical.</p>
<p>She gave him a look like she was wondering if he was a little thick in the head. "Don't think too hard," she said.</p>
<p>His blue eyes darted around the bathroom for a moment, putting it all together in his head. Angel wings; "Angel Whore"; and that name etched into her arm: Castiel. A Biblical name. The name of an—</p>
<p>"Angel," he whispered. "I'm… I'm an <em>angel</em>?"</p>
<p>She shook her head at him, slowly. "I mean, look at yourself." Her eyes traced his body, but then moved beyond it, to the light that outlined him, to the wings that were currently folded at his back, but were very large and jutted above his shoulders and out a little.</p>
<p>She could hear the jumble of his thoughts in her head, stumbling over each other as he fought to make sense of this information that made no sense. Yet he knew, instinctively, that she was right. He was an angel.</p>
<p>A memory fell into his head, a memory that Ruth did not share directly, but she heard it nonetheless:</p>
<p>
  <em>"Who are you?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Castiel."</em>
</p>
<p><em>"Yeah, I figured that much. I mean </em>what <em>are you?"</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"I'm an angel of the Lord."</em>
</p>
<p>It was too much at once. He fought to stay conscious, now, holding his head tightly in hands again, rocking back and forth on the bathroom floor, moaning wordlessly. His head felt like it would explode.</p>
<p>Ruth, mentally tied to him, also fought her own flickering vision. There was a dull throb in her head, and she tried to separate her own thoughts from his, but it was virtually impossible in that moment. She leaned toward him and pulled him to her, holding him in her arms. They sat like that for a long while, and eventually, they calmed.</p>
<p>"So," Ruth murmured, "what do I call you now?"</p>
<p>He shook his head. "<em>Castiel</em> just gives me a headache, and I feel some… negative emotion towards it. For now, I think I'd prefer Emmanuel."</p>
<p>She nodded, tracing the symbols on her forearm. Enochian. That was the language his name was written in. It was the language that had been humming in the background her mind since she'd woken in his arms by the reservoir.</p>
<p><em>Funny</em>, she thought, with a smile.</p>
<p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You, naked, holding me at the reservoir. And now I'm naked, holding you. It's just a silly thing.</em>
</p>
<p>They sat for a while longer, not speaking, but soon, Ruth began to shiver. Emmanuel shifted, and they both stood. He touched her face for a moment, and then left her so that she could shower.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Ruth lay beside Emmanuel in the dark of Daphne's guest bedroom later that night. When they had spoken to her about staying there, in her house, Emmanuel had let Ruth do most of the talking. They had told her only what she needed to know, and that had not included any superpowers that Emmanuel might have. Now that they knew what he was, they had no intention of telling Daphne about <em>that</em>, either.</p>
<p>Ruth turned in the bed to face her angel, laying on her side. He lay on his back, but turned his head to look at her. It was dark, but Ruth could see the light inside his body; it spilled out into the room, a little, almost like a night light. The amount of light, she thought, did not match the amount of power that thrummed inside his body. Perhaps she simply couldn't perceive it all.</p>
<p>"Do you think we were ever really married?" she asked, her voice low, barely above a whisper.</p>
<p>"I don't imagine an angel would marry a human," he replied, blue eyes gazing at her. "But, somehow, it feels like we've been married for years."</p>
<p>She balled her left hand up into a light fist. "No rings," she said.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Where are your wedding rings?" Daphne had asked, earlier that day, as they were discussing things.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Ruth had said, quickly, "We had to sell them for money." </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Daphne had pursed her lips at the answer, though Ruth did not know if it was because she had felt bad, or because she didn't believe it.</em>
</p>
<p>"Perhaps we were only married in spirit," Emmanuel murmured, breaking Ruth out of the memory.</p>
<p>"Seems good enough," she said.</p>
<p>He did not speak.</p>
<p>She scooted closer to him in the bed and lay an arm across his chest. "I assume you're not tired?"</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>She laughed. "So, you don't sleep. What the hell are you gonna do all night?"</p>
<p>"I just thought I'd lay here quietly—</p>
<p>
  <em>Last night on Earth. Any plans?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I just thought I'd… sit here quietly.</em>
</p>
<p>Emmanuel winced as the memory took over his brain for a moment. But it was gone quickly.</p>
<p>"You must know that man," Ruth said. "It's the second time you've seen him, heard him."</p>
<p>"Yes," Emmanuel whispered. "He feels… familiar."</p>
<p>Ruth massaged her head. "I think I know him, too."</p>
<p>"Yes," the angel repeated.</p>
<p>"Should we be… looking for him?" she wondered, aloud.</p>
<p>"<em>No!</em>" He said it so emphatically, with such a whip-like tone to his voice, that it shocked her.</p>
<p>She felt the <em>No</em> reverberate around in her skull, and winced. "All right," she said.</p>
<p>Emmanuel sat up in the bed. Ruth sat up with him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, touching her face. "I—I don't know why I said it like that. There's something… something tied to him, to the memory of him. Something bad."</p>
<p>She touched her forehead to his. "I believe you. If you don't want to look for him, then we won't."</p>
<p>He sighed. "I just want to stay here, with you. With Daphne. I don't… I don't want to be an angel." His voice cracked on the last word.</p>
<p>Concerned, Ruth pulled back to look at him. He looked… broken. His head remained bowed, and there was a furrow between his brows. His mouth was set in a grim line. "What is it?" she asked, her voice gentle.</p>
<p>A small glimmer of a feeling floated into her mind as he allowed her farther into himself. "I think," he began, in a voice so small and plaintive that it nearly broke her heart, "I think I did something <em>wrong</em>."</p>
<p>And she realized, then, that he had been hiding this feeling from her the whole time. It tied in with his aversion to lying, but it was so much more than that. A vision of the dream she'd had that morning flashed into her mind: his head and face covered in that black liquid, thick, like tar. His eyes, wide and crazed, his mouth in a malicious grin.</p>
<p>"You think that was <em>real</em>?" she asked, remembering to keep her voice low, ever-aware of Daphne in the other room.</p>
<p>"I do," he confirmed. "I don't have any real memory of that, but… Somehow, I know that that was really me. It wasn't just a nightmare you had. It was a memory. At least, <em>that</em> part of it was."</p>
<p>Ruth shivered, disturbed by that picture of his face in her mind. She took a shaky breath. "Well, if there was ever a time to start over, it would be now. We don't have most of our memories, so…"</p>
<p>"I don't want to go searching for anymore of them," he said, looking up into her eyes. "Please. I just want to be Emmanuel."</p>
<p>She took another breath, this one steadier than the last, and cupped his face in one of her hands. "All right," she said. "Then we won't. We'll just be… Emmanuel and Ruth. That's all."</p>
<p>"Thank you," he said, and leaned forward to kiss her.</p>
<p>When he pulled away, she said, "Now, I can't exactly… ignore that you're not human." She gestured at him with a hand. "I can see your… <em>everything</em>."</p>
<p>"As long as you're the only one who can see me, I don't mind," he told her, his voice calm and serious.</p>
<p>She smiled at him. "You're sweet."</p>
<p>Together, they lay back down in the bed. Quickly afterwards, Ruth drifted off to sleep. She did not have nightmares.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Sixteen</em>
</p>
<p>Weeks passed. Daphne had taken them both out shopping and gotten them more clothes. She doted on them like a mother hen. In return, they helped out around the house, doing dishes, cooking meals, keeping their room clean. Like good house guests… Or good children.</p>
<p>In truth, it was a little awkward. Emmanuel, who seemed to remember less than Ruth, did not mind the doting and the hovering that Daphne did around them. But Ruth, more and more, was feeling constricted in that house. Confined. Upon discovering Ruth's tattoos, Daphne forcefully encouraged Ruth, with a smile that was too wide, to wear long-sleeved shirts only. This was mostly fine, as it was getting colder by the day, but Ruth did not like the feeling of being told what to do with her own body. She did not fight it, however, for she was living in the woman's house, eating her food.</p>
<p>Food was one of the things they had not been able to continue hiding from Daphne. Ruth did not have it in her to <em>make</em> Emmanuel eat, not when, every time he tried, he immediately wanted to throw it all up. Angels didn't need regular sustenance, and he could not taste it for what it was, tasting only the molecules that made up the food and the chemical reactions within it all. Daphne had noticed—who wouldn't?—that Emmanuel did not eat. So, instead of waiting for her to ask questions, they had confided in her that Emmanuel had certain, strange powers. And one of his powers was that he did not need to eat.</p>
<p>Daphne, being religious, had immediately assumed that these powers were a gift from God. And, much to Ruth's irritation, she was not wrong. It wasn't that Ruth had a problem with God; it was more that she did not trust a woman who took such things at face value and assumed that anything wildly strange had to be a gift or a sign from the divine. Ruth believed in God, too, but she did not have that sort of blind faith. Still, it was nice that they had one less thing to hide from her.</p>
<p>And it wasn't all bad or awkward. During the day, Ruth and Emmanuel had the house to themselves as Daphne went off to work. They spent the time cleaning, if there was any cleaning that needed to be done. Otherwise, they read (Daphne's library was extensive, though most of the books were religious in nature); they took walks around the neighborhood; they simply sat and talked.</p>
<p>On Saturdays, Daphne would take them out to a park or a hiking trail, and they'd spend the day outside. Saturdays were Emmanuel's favorite days, for he found a joy and comfort in nature that even Ruth could not give him. He loved to bask in the glory of God's creation. After three Saturdays, it became Ruth's favorite day, as well, for she loved to see Emmanuel smile, and he never smiled more than when he was pointing out some little insect on a leaf in a bush, or staring up at the sky through a canopy of leaves. He was childlike, in this way, and for that, she loved him all the more. After three weeks, he began to forget his troubles a little.</p>
<p>Sundays were quiet days, though not the whole day. Sundays were church days, which neither of them minded. Church, after all, was where they had been saved—literally. They thanked Pastor Kenny for introducing them to Daphne, and he was glad for their good fortune. After church, they would all gather at one house or another; sometimes it was Daphne's, and sometimes not. They told the others that Emmanuel had some very insane, very specific food allergies, which exempted him from eating with the rest of them.</p>
<p>After brunch, they would return home, or do the dishes if the brunch had taken place at Daphne's house. Then they would each pick some quiet activity to do. Emmanuel would most often choose a book to read and sit by a window so that he could look outside whenever he wanted. Ruth would sit across from him, or beside him, usually with a mug of tea, and simply watch him, or read whatever he was reading over his shoulder. Daphne would be nearby, reading the Bible, or journaling, or whatever other activity she had chosen.</p>
<p>At night, they would all work together to make dinner—even Emmanuel, who did not eat the food. Every meal was homemade; Ruth did not think she'd seen a single processed food item in the house since she'd gotten there. Daphne was adamant that the body was one's temple (a big reason she was anti-tattoo), and she believed that eating well wasn't only healthy physically, it was healthy for one's spirit. Ruth was often annoyed by her religious beliefs, but she had to admit that a home-cooked meal was always going to taste better than some crap from McDonald's—even if McDonald's <em>was</em> delicious.</p>
<p>It was during one of these Sunday nights that their quiet, Brady Bunch life was disrupted. It happened about a month in. Ruth turned away for just a moment, to put a pot of water onto the stove to heat, and heard Daphne scream. Ruth spun around and stared in horror at the gush of blood between Daphne's hands. On the cutting board sat the top quarter of one of her fingers.</p>
<p>Emmanuel had been in the bedroom, changing into more comfortable clothes before coming to help them in the kitchen.</p>
<p>Ruth frantically grabbed a kitchen towel and began to forcefully wrap it, hard, around the hand with the cut finger. At the same time, she yelled, "<em>Emmanuel!</em>" aloud, and in her mind.</p>
<p>Without understanding where it had come from, she felt and heard a great gust of wind in the kitchen that blew her hair back, away from her neck. Still holding onto Daphne's hand with the towel, she turned and saw Emmanuel… and stared.</p>
<p>He was brighter than she had ever seen him, the light that poured from him a blinding white, as opposed to the warmer tone she was used to. His eyes glowed blue-white, and his wings were spread wide in all their glory. He pulled the towel away from Daphne's bleeding hand. Daphne had stopped crying, and was staring up into Emmanuel's face, staring at his eyes. Still, she held her bleeding hand close to her chest, and whimpered.</p>
<p>"<em>Do not be afraid</em>," Emmanuel said, and his voice in Ruth's mind was like fire that touched her without burning. And the light in her body, the energy that matched the energy inside Emmanuel, hummed and pulsated and with such force that it was all she could do to remain standing. Half of her was made stronger by the force of the energy throbbing in her veins; she wanted to scream, to punch something. The other half of her wanted nothing more than to prostrate herself at the feet of the angel standing before her, to kneel down, or to be held in his arms.</p>
<p>She watched in awe as he pressed Daphne's bleeding hand in between both of his own. He closed his glowing eyes for a moment, and then opened them again and let go of her hand. It was made whole, and was no longer bleeding. Ruth looked down at the cutting board; there sat the tip of Daphne's finger, yet Daphne's hand was fine again.</p>
<p>All three of them stared at her hand, her finger. After a moment, Ruth turned to look at Emmanuel. His eyes were no longer glowing; he was staring down at his own hands, at his body, at himself. He looked up at Ruth, searchingly, then stared at Daphne, at her hand, which he had just healed.</p>
<p>Ruth looked at Daphne again. She was staring at Emmanuel with a look somewhere between awe and terror.</p>
<p>Ruth sighed. <em>We have to tell her what you are</em>, she said.</p>
<p>Emmanuel closed his eyes, took a slow deep breath, and nodded his acquiescence.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>It took even a woman as religious as Daphne a while to process Emmanuel's true nature. She went into her bedroom and did not come out again for hours. They left her alone, and cleaned up the blood, and made dinner. Ruth forced herself to eat her portion, having saved half of it for whenever Daphne came out of her room. She was not very hungry, her stomach twisted into knots, but starving herself wouldn't help matters.</p>
<p>Emmanuel sat beside her, quietly, his elbows resting on the table in front of him, one hand folded over the other, his chin resting on his knuckles. After healing Daphne's hand, the light within him had diminished once more to its warmer, backlit glow. Ruth found that she could look upon him without feeling the urge to cry and kneel at his feet. His wings were folded neatly at his back, though she longed to see them spread wide.</p>
<p>All that power that had been pulsing in his veins for weeks had finally shone itself in those few seconds it had taken to remake Daphne's finger. All that energy, that holy light, had exploded from him for just a few moments. And in those few moments, he had been himself—his true self. Castiel, an angel of the Lord. A warrior, a soldier… a healer. A man not to be trifled with. A man who could break a human in half if he really wanted to, who could have just as easily crushed Daphne's hand to dust as he could heal it.</p>
<p>And he hated it.</p>
<p>He hated knowing that he contained such strength, such raw power. He hated knowing that he could break a man if he wanted to. He hated feeling that electric, pulsing energy inside himself. Somehow, he knew that that power was related to whatever he had done wrong in his past. The power had overwhelmed him, and he had hurt people. Good people. People who did not deserve whatever it was that he had done to them. He sat, rigid, in his char, a marble statue made of pain and the fear of repeating past mistakes—mistakes that his mind, in an effort to save itself, was keeping hidden from him.</p>
<p>Ruth slowly, carefully, reached out and touched his shoulder. To her relief, he did not flinch or move away from her. He merely closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, he turned to look at her. His eyes were sad.</p>
<p>"You won't hurt people," she said, softly. "You can <em>heal</em> people."</p>
<p>He said nothing.</p>
<p>"Try to see yourself as I see you."</p>
<p>He smiled mirthlessly, touching her face. "I cannot. You see me as someone to be worshiped. I am <em>not</em> God. I am <em>angel</em> of God. The two are not the same."</p>
<p>Ruth shook her head, studying his face. His eyes, his nose, his jawline. "You are the closest to God that I have ever been, in the short amount of time in which I remember my life," she said. "And I will love you the way I want to. I will not view you as a monster, because you're <em>not</em> one. You can choose the ways in which you use your powers."</p>
<p>"Then I can choose not to use them <em>at all</em>," he said, his voice strong.</p>
<p>"So be it," she said, quickly, not wanting to actively disagree with him. "Let's just hope Daphne doesn't accidentally hurt herself again. But I think you could do a lot of good in the world, if you <em>chose</em> to heal people."</p>
<p>He accepted her opinion without retort, but without agreement, either.</p>
<p>Ruth stood up from the table and took Emmanuel's hands in both of hers. "Come to bed," she said. "I want to test something."</p>
<p>Curiously, he followed her, his mind still too focused on inward feelings to notice the way she had phrased her request. She led him by the hand into the bedroom, and then released him and went to the nightstand.</p>
<p>Two weeks into their stay, here, Ruth had gone into the bedroom to find a new box of condoms sitting on the bed. She had smiled; for all of Daphne's zealotry, she had at least given them this. But the box had remained unopened all this time. Ruth and Emmanuel knew that they had known each other for a long time, but most of their memories still remained locked behind whatever wall was in their minds. Sex, so far, had seemed… unneeded. Most nights found them simply curled against one another, spooning.</p>
<p>Ruth opened the box and tore one of the condom packages away from the others at the perforated line. She turned and faced Emmanuel, holding the condom between two fingers, her eyebrows raised in a silent question.</p>
<p>Emmanuel sighed. "Now isn't—</p>
<p>"<em>Now</em> is the <em>perfect</em> time," she stated, interrupting him. She moved closer to him, placing a hand on his chest. "<em>Now</em>, when you seem to be at your lowest, when you think so little of yourself. <em>Now</em> is the time to remind you that you are <em>not</em> a monster."</p>
<p>He stared down at her, his eyes soft, saying nothing.</p>
<p>She cupped his face in her hand. "Now is the time to remind you that you can be <em>powerful</em> and <em>strong</em>… <em>and</em> you can be loving and gentle, at the same time."</p>
<p>His face changed as she spoke, and he seemed to stand taller, breathe more deeply. His eyes became more focused, studying her, staring <em>into</em> her. "Powerful," he murmured, repeating her.</p>
<p>"Yes," she said.</p>
<p>His eyes left her face, staring at nothing behind her for a moment as a glimmer of a memory tickled his mind. He looked at her again, his head lifting slowly until he was looking at her down his nose. "<em>Commanding</em>," he said, his tone changed to one she had not heard before—at least not in the last month, not since he had become Emmanuel.</p>
<p>She stared at him, warmth blossoming between her legs. "Yes," she whispered, but tempered it, reminding him: "And loving. And gentle."</p>
<p>He looked away again, smiling, thinking, then glanced at her, his eyes twinkling. "Yes." Suddenly, he swept his arm behind her knees and picked her up, walking her to the bed and laying her down. He took the condom from her and placed it on the nightstand, and then began to undress her, slowly, taking his time, kissing each part of her that he exposed to the air. Being naked around him felt as natural as breathing, for though she only <em>remembered</em> being so once, she knew that it had happened many times before that. She was not nervous so much as curious.</p>
<p>Soon, she lay naked on the bed. He stood and began to undress himself. She sat up to help him but he said, "No."</p>
<p>She stopped, tilting her head to the side, wonderingly.</p>
<p>He did not smile, exactly, but one corner of his mouth lifted in amusement, as if he knew something that she didn't. As he continued to undress, he explained, "You spend your time… <em>worshipping</em> <em>me</em>. And somehow, with no memory, I <em>know</em> that you did it before, too. You found me and I became… everything to you."</p>
<p>Ruth said nothing, though she knew the truth of his words.</p>
<p>"Somehow," he went on, "this, now, this past month has been the most <em>equal</em> we have ever been, because we rely on one another for everything. We anchor one another." His voice was soft, gentle, but contained that hint of power that she could feel thrumming between them, a secret shared. He stood before her, naked, but moved to the foot of the bed.</p>
<p>She followed him with her eyes.</p>
<p>"Tonight," he said, "is not about <em>me</em>." He crawled up on the bed and hovered over the lower half of her body. "Tonight, <em>I </em>will worship <em>you</em>." And he buried his face between her legs.</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>Before the night was through, a massive, unannounced storm raged outside the house, rattling every window, pounding against the roof. Ruth said his name a thousand times, <em>both</em> names, until the angel became a strange mix of two people in her head. And the more she breathed his real name, "Castiel," the more comfortable with himself he became.</p>
<p>And as he finally allowed himself his own release, he sat up in the bed as she straddled him, pulled her head down to his and pressed his forehead against hers, and moaned:</p>
<p>"Brooke… Brooke…"</p>
<p>And the name she thought had had no meaning to her before was suddenly filled with all the meaning in the world.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: Heads up. As you may have noticed, my posting schedule has been slower than it used to be. I used to post once per day. Now I'm posting once every two (or three) days. That is because I have burned myself out writing this fanfic, starting back in October. I'm currently trying to get through the last episode of season 12 and it has taken me days just get through the first 20 minutes of the episode. I still plan on finishing this fic, don't worry, but I'm not going to make myself stick to some kind of posting schedule. I'm just going to write when I want to. I will go back to posting once per day, until I run out of chapters to give you-if I do. Sorry for any inconvenience, but I just really need to give myself a break, because writing this is no longer as fun as it used to be, and that's not a good sign.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Seventeen</em>
</p>
<p>The next several months were a frenzy of activity during the day, followed by quiet respites at night. Daphne had come out of her room in the morning after discovering Emmanuel's true nature, and had told him what Ruth had told him: that he could be using his powers to help people.</p>
<p>And Emmanuel, newly strengthened with a quiet confidence, had readily agreed. He had gazed at Ruth as he had said it, his eyes full of the perfect balance between love, adoration… and desire.</p>
<p>Daphne took care of everything, making whatever phone calls were necessary, mainly to her church, and others around the county. People began to show up at the door, people with any number of ailments, from a common cold to blindness to disfigurements. Emmanuel healed them all. They began to come from farther and farther away, as word of his gifts spread. They told no one of his true identity, and even among each other, Castiel and Brooke continued to call each other Emmanuel and Ruth. Only in the dark, late at night, did they whisper each other's true names.</p>
<p>Emmanuel came into his own, growing more and more self-assured, though it never passed over into cockiness. Even as his happiness expanded, with the more people he helped, he was ever-aware of the horrible memory lingering somewhere in the back of his mind. Hubris had brought him down the first time, and he did not intend to let it bring him down a second time. He would use his powers only to heal the sick and injured, and he would do it humbly.</p>
<p>Still, Ruth watched as the light that poured from his body grew brighter and brighter the more he believed in himself and his ability to do good in the world. And she was grateful to God that He had allowed Castiel to move on from whatever mistakes he had made in the past. She often watched from the background as her angel laid hands upon those who came to him and healed them. She would watch as light would flow from his hands into the person, would watch as scars disappeared, as cataracts disappeared from eyes, as the paralyzed would stand and walk.</p>
<p>Emmanuel; they had found the name, seemingly by coincidence, that morning in church. Somehow, Ruth did not think, anymore, that they had found the name by accident. Castiel was not Jesus, and it was arrogant to think so, but Jesus had been a healer, as well. Perhaps finding <em>that</em> name, among hundreds, had been God speaking to Castiel, giving him a hint of what he was meant to do.</p>
<p>Sometimes, Emmanuel would come across a person with a particularly difficult ailment. Usually, these were of a spiritual nature, rather than a physical one, as of someone who had lost their faith due to some traumatic event. Or they were psychological. Depression, PTSD, severe anxiety. Emmanuel could help these people just as well as those with physical problems, but it took him more time, for wandering through a person's brain was harder than mending a broken bone. He had to be careful not to break the mind, not to stray too far left or right, to only undo the one, specific knot in the system. These were the cases that Ruth helped him with. <em>Helping</em> did not include much—only that she would step out of the corner of the room and come to him, placing a hand on his shoulder as he concentrated. The ever-present humming in her blood would increase as Emmanuel would connect to it, take a slight increase of power from it. Ruth could never quite see what he was doing, for her mental reach did not include the people he was healing, but she could feel his slow, careful progress as he made his way through the maze of another person's mind to find the root of the problem.</p>
<p>These cases often left him exhausted on a spiritual level. The force in his body, the energy shared between himself and Ruth, would lay dormant for the rest of the day, recuperating itself. He would sit outside on the steps, with his face to the sun, basking like a cat. Or, if it was cloudy that day, he would lead Ruth gently to the bedroom and curl around her body in the bed, and go still, his breathing deep and quiet. It was closest to sleeping he ever came.</p>
<p>Sometimes, Ruth and Emmanuel would have to drive to where the sick were, for they were bedridden at home, or in a hospital, too weak to sit up, let alone to drive. These semi-regular road trips were fun for Ruth. It gave her a chance to show Emmanuel music that was <em>not</em> religious. She would flip through every radio station, usually landing on some rock station. Emmanuel did not necessarily enjoy the music itself, but she often caught him smiling at her out of the corner of her eye as she jammed out to Led Zeppelin, or AC/DC. These were songs that she remembered from long before she had ever lost her memory and woken up in Emmanuel's arms at the reservoir. These were songs she'd grown up on. She threw a little pop in there, too, sometimes, just for a change of pace. Always, Emmanuel would sit quietly in the passenger seat, his hands folded in his lap, but a small smile would play at the corners of his mouth. Every once in a while, she let him drive; they didn't know why he knew how to drive, but Ruth was grateful that he had the skill. It gave him an amount of freedom that he would not have had otherwise.</p>
<p>Not everyone who came to be healed by Emmanuel believed that it would work, that anything would happen. But they always left as a believer. Daphne was often gone when people came to the house, for she still had to work, but if a person did happen to come late, she would stand in a corner with Ruth and watch Emmanuel work. And sometimes, she would witness the help that Ruth gave the angel. And the more she witnessed the strange connection between Ruth and Emmanuel, the quieter she became around them both.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>They were starting to become truly worried four months into their stay, for Daphne hardly spoke to them at all anymore. She was not unfriendly, only quiet. Still, her silence was concerning.</p>
<p>Then Daphne was late coming home from work one day.</p>
<p>Ruth called her cellphone but got no answer. She and Emmanuel sat quietly on the couch in the living room and waited, without speaking.</p>
<p>An hour later, Daphne came through the door.</p>
<p>Ruth and Emmanuel stood in tandem and walked quickly over to her. "Are you okay?" Ruth asked her, taking the woman in with her eyes, checking for injuries or some other sign that would indicate why she was so late coming home. She was holding a small paper bag in her hand, from a jeweler's store.</p>
<p>"Yes, I'm fine," Daphne said, putting her hand out in a <em>calm down</em> manner, palm facing the floor. "I'm sorry. I should have called, but… Well…" She smiled in a strange, secretive kind of way. "Why don't we sit down?"</p>
<p>Ruth and Emmanuel glanced at each other, and slowly shuffled back to the couch, sitting side by side and staring up at Daphne as she sat dragged a chair close to the couch so that she could sit near them. The small paper bag was slung over one arm. She pulled it off and smiled at them again.</p>
<p>"These last four months have tested my faith in ways I could never have imagined," she said. "I believe it's tested <em>all</em> of our faiths. Four months ago, angels were just a concept. Yes, I believed in them, but I believed they lived up in Heaven and did not directly interact with people." She grinned at Emmanuel.</p>
<p>"And," she continued, looking at Ruth, "four months ago I would have said that, were angels to come down to Earth, that a romantic relationship between a human and an angel would be… wrong. Unthinkable. Strange."</p>
<p>Ruth looked down at her lap for a moment, but lifted her gaze again almost immediately. Daphne was smiling at her, gently.</p>
<p>"We should always have our faith in God," Daphne went on. "But we should also have faith in each other. So… I bought you both something." She bent down, to the paper bag sitting on the floor at her feet, and pulled out two small, black boxes.</p>
<p>Ruth's breath caught in her throat.</p>
<p>"Now, you told me that you were married, and that you had to sell your rings for money," said Daphne, holding the boxes in her hands. "I assume that that was a lie, but, given the circumstances, I've long since forgiven you for any lies you may have told me when I first let you into my home." She handed one box to each of them. "Getting married for real is probably impossible, but… you should at least have the rings."</p>
<p>Ruth was crying. She opened the box and stared down at the gold wedding band.</p>
<p>"I didn't get you a diamond ring, Ruth," Daphne said. "They're… quite expensive, but it also didn't really seem your style."</p>
<p>Ruth shook her head. "This—this is fine," she said. "This is <em>great</em>." She laughed and glanced up at Emmanuel.</p>
<p>He had taken his ring out of the box and was pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. He squinted at it, head tilted to the side in that endearing, puppy-dog look. "I think this one is yours," he said.</p>
<p>Ruth pulled hers out and held it up next to his, and saw that he was correct. She was holding the bigger one. "This is good, though," she said. "We're supposed to put them on each other."</p>
<p>"I see," he replied. "Then…"</p>
<p>Still crying, and feeling slightly moronic, Ruth held out her left hand to him. He slid the ring onto her finger. She flexed her hand to get a feel for the ring. Somehow, it fit perfectly. She found herself wanting to stare at it all night, but quickly pulled her eyes away. "Okay, now you," she said to him.</p>
<p>He held out his hand to her, and she took it and slid the ring onto his finger. She could tell it was a little too big, looking at it, but Emmanuel squeezed his hand into a fist a few times, flexing his fingers out each time, and then the ring was suddenly the right size. She stared at his finger. "You can magically make rings the right size?" she asked, dumbly.</p>
<p>"Yes, I… suppose I can."</p>
<p>She laughed, feeling giddy. "Well, that's super random, but it's awesome."</p>
<p>Emmanuel smiled at her.</p>
<p>Ruth turned to Daphne, who had been watching silently the entire time. "How long have you been cooking <em>this</em> up?" she asked. "Is this why you've been quiet for so long?"</p>
<p>Daphne smiled and sighed, leaning back in the chair. "Yes," she admitted. "I've been thinking about this for a long time. At first, I thought that your relationship was <em>wrong</em>, that it couldn't happen, but the more I watched the two of you work together, the more I saw that <em>I</em> was wrong. And then I knew I had to do something." She gestured to their hands—their rings. "This was all I could think of."</p>
<p>Ruth reached down and squeezed Emmanuel's hand. "This was perfect," she said.</p>
<p>"Yes," Emmanuel added, in that quiet, gentle voice that perfectly hid the power thrumming in his veins. "This was perfect."</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>And so, their life went on. Daphne got up and went to work in the morning, and Ruth and Emmanuel waited for the sick and injured to arrive on their doorstep. In between patients, they would cook and clean, and read. And they would sit and talk, or curl up in bed. All together on Saturdays, they would still take their strolls in the park, or go hiking down by the river. On Sundays, they would still go to church, and their church family—for they had come to think of this congregation as a sort of family—commented happily about their new wedding rings.</p>
<p>And life went on, idyllic, perfect. Emmanuel had found his new purpose and began to forget that he had ever had a life outside of what his life was now. Of course, he had no real memory of his old life, but he began to forget even the snippets he had remembered here and there in the beginning of his new life with Ruth. And Ruth forgot her old life, as well. Even at night, in the darkness, as their bodies met, they no longer used each other's real names. They no longer cried out, "Castiel," or "Brooke."</p>
<p>Their real names, now, were Emmanuel and Ruth.</p>
<p>And they were happy. Truly happy.</p>
<p>But all good things must come to an end.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Update: I've just started writing for season 13, so I'm feeling a little better on muse. But I'm not at 100% yet, so please bear with me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Eighteen</em>
</p>
<p>Emmanuel had gone out for just a little while, on his own, the day the demon came to the house. It was Saturday, but they had chosen to stay home that day, in case anyone came to the house needing to be healed. They still took days off, but they did so less often than they once had. Still, Emmanuel enjoyed being outside, and so he'd gone off to take a walk around the neighborhood while Ruth and Daphne made lunch for themselves.</p>
<p>Someone knocked on the door when they were about halfway through their meal. Daphne got up to answer the door, while Ruth waited to see if she would need to help her. Sometimes those who came to be healed needed help walking, or communicating their needs. Ruth could not do all that Emmanuel could, for she was not an angel, but she had learned enough to know what to do when someone was trying to tell her what they needed.</p>
<p>She heard the front door shut, and Daphne walked into kitchen with a man. Ruth looked up into the man's face—and screamed. His face was <em>wrong</em>, underneath. On the surface, he looked human, but he was <em>not</em>. His true face, his true form underneath the human part was twisted and feral and monstrous.</p>
<p>Ruth stood up so fast that her chair crashed to the ground. Instinctively, she rushed for the knife block near the sink. The man—whatever he was—took two big steps and met her halfway, grinning maniacally. Ruth punched him in the face, as hard as she could, not stopping to wonder how she knew how to punch like that, or what this creature was, or why she could see it and Daphne could not.</p>
<p>Daphne was in shock; she simply stood in the entryway to the kitchen, rooted to the floor, her face pale.</p>
<p>The punch jerked the creature's head back and Ruth lunged for a knife at the same time that the creature slammed her into the kitchen counter. She yelled, in pain, in fear, in wild anger, and stabbed the creature in the chest, to the hilt, with a sharp, serrated knife.</p>
<p>He did not react to the knife except to laugh at her, and then he backhanded her so hard across the face that she saw stars. She gasped, dots in her vision. The creature pulled the knife from his chest and held it close to her face, grinning. She brought her arm up, lightning-quick, and knocked the knife out of his hand. It clattered to the ground.</p>
<p>The creature snarled at her and reached for the knife block, but Ruth barreled into him, and they both fell—hard—to the floor. Ruth had enough clarity of mind to look up, quickly, for Daphne. She was no longer standing in the entryway of the kitchen. Ruth did not know where she had gone, but did not have time to wonder. The creature grabbed her roughly by the hair and slammed her face into the floor. Her ears began to ring, and her head throbbed. And that force, that energy in her blood, came roiling to the surface.</p>
<p>Without thought, she cried, "<em>CASTIEL</em>!"</p>
<p>Time seemed to stop as he <em>whooshed</em> into the kitchen, wings spread wide, eyes aflame with that cold, blue glow. The air in the kitchen seemed to suck inward, compressing Ruth's body so that it became difficult to breathe. Emmanuel—Castiel—the angel standing before her was large and imposing and blindingly bright, and his anger washed over her mind like a nightmare. She withstood it only because it was not aimed at her… and because the energy shared between them protected her from the worst of his ire.</p>
<p>He came forward in two large steps, reached down, and pulled the creature up off the floor by the hair, his fist tangled in it, his knuckles gone white. The creature growled and twisted, trying to pull away from the angel, but to no avail.</p>
<p>Castiel—for he was no longer Emmanuel—held the creature tightly by the hair and pressed his other hand to its forehead. Light exploded from the creature's eyes and mouth, and it screamed horrifically.</p>
<p>Ruth pulled herself up off the ground, breathing shallowly, staring in awe and horror as the creature was killed.</p>
<p>Castiel let go of it and the body crumpled to the ground.</p>
<p>The air seemed to release, suddenly, and Ruth took in great gasps of it, feeling lightheaded. Castiel appeared before her, cupping her face in his hands, but roughly. "Did he hurt you?" he demanded, his voice low and gruff and powerful.</p>
<p>"Not really," Ruth replied. "Slapped me once, but I'm fine."</p>
<p>He was breathing heavily, and he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers. Together, they took five, slow, deep breaths. And when he opened his eyes again, they were no longer glowing. He seemed to shrink a little, to return to his mild-mannered human form. His angelic light dimmed and became a warmer tone.</p>
<p>Daphne appeared in the kitchen, staring down at the body of the creature that had attacked Ruth. Her face was still very pale; she looked about ready to vomit. Emmanuel placed a kiss on Ruth's forehead and then went to Daphne. "What about you?" he asked her, gently. "Did he hurt you?"</p>
<p>Daphne shook her head, mutely.</p>
<p>Emmanuel pulled the poor woman into a hug and Ruth came and placed a hand on her shoulder. The two of them stood and comforted this woman who had taken care of them for the past six months. She had become something of a mother figure to them both, and now they had become her guardians.</p>
<p>There was a knock at the front door.</p>
<p>Emmanuel immediately became alert and a little overprotective. He let go of Daphne, his eyes flaring blue-white, his wings spread wide, ruffling the kitchen towel draped over the oven door's handle, blowing the hair back from Ruth's face. He moved with purpose to the door. Ruth followed quickly after him.</p>
<p>Emmanuel opened the door wide, two seconds from sending whoever was standing there flying halfway across the street. Ruth ducked under his arm, looked at the man's face, and placed her body in front of Emmanuel. "He's not a demon!" she said, realizing immediately that the creature that had tried to kill her earlier had, in fact, been a demon.</p>
<p>Emmanuel was still in Papa Bear mode, and the very air in the house seemed to shake. "Who are you?" he demanded of the man standing on the front porch.</p>
<p>"Hey, whoa, whoa!" the man said, stepping back and putting his hands up as a sign of surrender. "I'm—I'm <em>Dean</em>!"</p>
<p>Dean. <em>Dean</em>.</p>
<p>All of the intense, angry power inside Emmanuel seemed to fizzle out. He placed a hand to his forehead as a stab of pain went through his mind. "Dean," he repeated, gritting his teeth.</p>
<p>Ruth, also, was experiencing a headache. She placed a supportive hand on her husband's shoulder.</p>
<p>Emmanuel stared up again into the face of the man, his eyes slitted in pain. "I know… that name," he breathed, but the pain in his head was only getting worse. The memory still would not come, and the more he tried to grasp at it, the worse the pain got.</p>
<p>"Let it go," Ruth hissed through gritted teeth. She squeezed Emmanuel's shoulder, hard. "Let it go for now. It'll come when it'll come!"</p>
<p>The angel took a deep breath, then took another.</p>
<p>All the while, Dean stood in the doorway, staring at the two of them like they were insane. They probably looked it.</p>
<p>The pain began to dissipate as Emmanuel accepted that he could not remember this man yet. "I'm sorry," he said, slowly. "I know that I know you, but I don't remember you."</p>
<p>Dean stood on the porch and stared into Emmanuel's face with a look of utter despair. Then he blinked and the expression was gone, replaced by one of neutrality, as if he felt nothing. "It's fine," he said, though it was clearly <em>not</em> fine.</p>
<p>Emmanuel shook his head. "Now isn't a good time…" he said, and then added, "Dean." He turned to look over his shoulder, towards the kitchen. "A—someone attacked us," he explained, thinking better of telling the man what it had been.</p>
<p>"Yeah," said Dean. "A <em>demon</em>, I'm guessing." He gestured to Ruth. "Considering that Brooke just had to yell at you that I'm <em>not</em> one."</p>
<p><em>Brooke</em>.</p>
<p>Ruth stared at Dean, and then went up and grabbed him by the shoulders. "You really <em>do</em> know us," she said, her voice hoarse. "You know me as Brooke?"</p>
<p>Dean stared down at her, alarmed. "Y-Yeah," he said.</p>
<p>Ruth felt dizzy.</p>
<p>"<em>What is going on</em>?" Dean said, suddenly, emphasizing each word very clearly, and loudly.</p>
<p>"I'd like to know that, too," came Daphne's voice from behind Ruth.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>In the end, no one did much explaining of any kind, for it was extremely clear that Dean had come there for some very important reason, and he was dying to get it out.</p>
<p>"What is it?" Ruth asked him, finally, after about five minutes.</p>
<p>"It's my brother," Dean said, all in a rush, so that it sounded like he'd said one, long word. "He's… he's sick, in the head." Dean looked up at Emmanuel, his eyes searching. "Can—can you heal that sort of thing? It's… sort of a—a psychological thing."</p>
<p>"Yes," said Emmanuel, confidently, nodding once.</p>
<p>Dean stood up. "Good, then we gotta go."</p>
<p>Ruth's mind was spinning, and she could feel Emmanuel in the same boat. There was so much that he wanted to ask Dean, about how they knew each other, about what had happened in their pasts, but Dean was so eager to leave, to return to his brother, that Emmanuel did not feel comfortable asking him about anything at that moment. There were, clearly, more important things to be doing.</p>
<p>Daphne stood up with the rest of them and walked them to the door. She was just as flustered as Ruth and Emmanuel were, but she tried not to show it. Probably, she assumed that this would just be like any other time that Ruth and Emmanuel went off to heal someone in a hospital. Probably, she assumed that they would return to her by the end of the day, or the next day.</p>
<p>But that would not be the case.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>The air in the car was charged with a strange energy, as Dean drove Emmanuel and Ruth to to where Sam Winchester was being held in a mental hospital. Now that Dean was in the car, on the way, he seemed calm enough to want to know more about what had happened to the two of them.</p>
<p>Emmanuel sat up front with Dean, and Ruth sat behind his seat so that she could better look at Dean. She was mentally connected to Emmanuel and could sense him even with her eyes closed, so she did not feel the need to look at him even if the drive was hours long.</p>
<p>"So, Cass," Dean began—</p>
<p>"Emmanuel," the angel corrected, though his voice was soft. "I prefer my new name. It may be hard for you; I know you knew me as Castiel, but… I am not Castiel anymore. I… I don't even remember <em>being</em> Castiel."</p>
<p>Ruth could feel the sadness in him the more he spoke, and she reached out with her mind to comfort him.</p>
<p>"Right…" Dean said, slowly. "Emmanuel. Who named you that, anyway?"</p>
<p>"The Bible," Emmanuel replied, simply.</p>
<p>Dean glanced at him, then looked at Ruth in the rear-view mirror. "Br—Ruth, you wanna elaborate? <em>Emmanuel</em>, here, was never very good at explaining things."</p>
<p>Ruth smiled knowingly.</p>
<p>"It's a strange story," the angel chimed in, before she could say anything. "You may not like it."</p>
<p>"Believe me, I will," Dean countered.</p>
<p>Ruth could feel Emmanuel smile, and he touched her mind, telling her she could go ahead, if she wanted to.</p>
<p>Ruth took a breath, wandering back six months in time, to the day by the reservoir when she had woken up in Emmanuel's arms. She began to speak. Occasionally, Emmanuel would add a detail or two, but he mostly remained silent.</p>
<p>When Ruth got to the part where Daphne had come home with wedding rings, Dean cheered, quite loudly. "Wow, <em>finally</em>!" he exclaimed. "Was wondering when you two would tie the knot—although it must be weird… a human and an angel, being married. Is that even allowed?"</p>
<p>"No one's stopped us yet," Ruth replied, smiling at Dean's enthusiasm. She paused as questions began to pile up in her mind. "How—how long were Emmanuel and I…?"</p>
<p>"Over two years," Dean said.</p>
<p>So they had lost at <em>least</em> two years' worth of memories.</p>
<p>It grew silent.</p>
<p>Dean cleared his throat after a minute or two. "Must suck, not knowing who you are," he said, trying for sympathy.</p>
<p>Ruth said nothing.</p>
<p>Emmanuel spoke up, and in his voice was a smile. "Well, it's our life. And it's a <em>good</em> life."</p>
<p>Ruth smiled, too, feeling a little better.</p>
<p>"Well," Dean said, "<em>hypothetically</em> speaking, what if you found out you were some kind of… bad guy?"</p>
<p>A twinge of fear ran up Ruth's spine, and she could feel Emmanuel's sudden apprehension. All those times he had looked down on himself, those secret, whispered conversations about how he <em>knew</em> that he had done something <em>wrong</em>, in his past. His voice wavered as he spoke. "I don't… I don't <em>feel</em> like a bad person." It was mostly true. <em>Now</em>, in his life with Ruth and Daphne, he had done a lot of good for a lot of people.</p>
<p>Dean glanced at him, then met Ruth's eyes in the mirror. He said nothing.</p>
<p>The air in the car became tense, and the ever-present hum of angelic energy inside Emmanuel rang at a higher frequency, like a high string playing in the background of a horror movie soundtrack. The heartbeat-like pauses in the sound and feel of the humming grew closer together, like a racing heart.</p>
<p><em>Calm</em>, Ruth warned him. <em>Don't reach for the memories. You need to be strong for when we get to Sam</em>.</p>
<p>Emmanuel acknowledged her words, and she could feel his sudden need to press his forehead to hers and breathe, but she was sitting in the backseat. The car did not have seatbelts, so she leaned forward and rested her arm on the back of his seat, reaching out her hand. He raised one arm up and across his chest and grabbed her hand with his. It was not the same, it did not afford the same physical closeness, but it was something.</p>
<p>Dean witnessed all this out of the corner of his eye, but he remained silent.</p>
<p>"So… Sam," Emmanuel began, wanting to focus on something else. "What's his diagnosis, exactly? You said it was… psychological?"</p>
<p>"Yeah," Dean replied, but he did not go into detail about what was wrong with his brother. Instead, he said, "Someone <em>did</em> this to him."</p>
<p>Emmanuel paused, letting go of Ruth's hand. She leaned back in her seat again.</p>
<p>"You're angry," the angel mused.</p>
<p>"Well, yeah. Dude broke my brother's head."</p>
<p>Emmanuel closed his eyes—Ruth could feel him—and sighed. It was a long sigh, for he knew that Dean was talking about <em>him</em>. Slowly but surely, the memory of what he had done was coming closer to the surface. But it was not <em>quite</em> there, yet. "He betrayed you, this dude," he murmured. "He was your friend?"</p>
<p>Dean glanced at Emmanuel with a look that was not very friendly. "Yeah, well, he's gone."</p>
<p>Emmanuel paused for a moment. They <em>were</em> talking about him, weren't they?</p>
<p>Ruth squinted, trying to piece it together. <em>The reservoir,</em> she said. <em>I found you, naked, and you had crawled out of a reservoir…</em></p>
<p>Emmanuel looked at Dean. Fear ran high and cold in his blood, but he forced his voice to remain calm. "Did you kill him—your friend?" Had Dean killed Emmanuel and tossed his body into the reservoir? Had he only <em>thought</em> he had killed him? To keep from having some kind of breakdown, and to keep the slowly increasing pressure out of his head, Emmanuel added, "I sense that you kill a lot of people."</p>
<p>"Honestly," said Dean, looking at the angel, "I-I don't know if he is dead. I just know that this… whole thing couldn't be messier. You know, I used to be able to just shake this stuff off, whatever it was. It might take me some time, but… I always could." He paused, looking at Emmanuel. "What <em>Cass</em> did… I just can't. I don't know why." So, Dean had officially clued them in that he was, in fact, talking about Emmanuel—about Castiel.</p>
<p>Emmanuel took a breath, sinking into a deep depression, knowing that, eventually, he would discover just what he had done. And whatever it was, it was awful. Still, although he did not <em>remember</em> being friends with Dean, he <em>knew</em> that they had been friends, and there was some instinct to protect Dean, and his feelings. "It doesn't matter why you can't shake this off," he murmured.</p>
<p>"Of course it matters," Dean snapped.</p>
<p>"No. You're not a machine, Dean. You're human."</p>
<p>Dean stared at Emmanuel for a second or two, but moved his eyes back to the road. No one spoke for a long time.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>They drove through the night, and Ruth fell asleep at some point. She awoke when the car stopped. Dean got out and leaned down through the window. "Just hang tight," he said. "I'll be back in a minute."</p>
<p>He was not back in a minute. Ruth and Emmanuel got out of the car to stretch their legs in the early morning air. Ruth was hungry and thirsty, and needed to pee. She glanced around and saw no one else walking down the sidewalks or driving past, so she darted behind a bush and emptied her bladder quickly, Emmanuel standing guard, scanning the area like a watchdog, lest someone come by.</p>
<p>Ruth smiled at him when she stepped out from behind the bush. He smiled in return, placing a hand on her cheek, and she felt a bit more energetic. He had reinvigorated her a little, giving her part of his own, endless, energy. She remembered the first night they had spent together, on the steps of the church, when he had kept her warm with his energy, and watched over her as slept.</p>
<p>They heard footsteps approaching them and looked up. Ruth gasped; Emmanuel grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind him, shielding her with his body. Dean was coming back, but he had a woman in tow—a demon.</p>
<p>"Her face!" Emmanuel hissed. "She's one of—</p>
<p>"It's okay," said the demon. "We come in different flavors."</p>
<p>Ruth stared at the demon's face, that horrible, twisted, permanent snarl.</p>
<p>"She's uhh… a friend," Dean said, though he didn't sound very sure.</p>
<p>"Meg," the demon introduced herself. "Just here for moral support. I mean, after all, we go way back."</p>
<p>Ruth stared harder at the demon, then looked up at Emmanuel. He shared a confused look with her, then glanced between Meg and Dean.</p>
<p>"Dean and me," Meg elaborated, seeing the looks on their faces. "Just met <em>you</em>, of course." She laughed, then swaggered up to Emmanuel and Ruth, glancing between the two of them. "I think we're gonna be good friends, too," she purred, and there was a <em>clear</em> indication of some sexual tension in her voice, her stance, the way she stared at Emmanuel, his body… but also in the way she stared at <em>Ruth</em>.</p>
<p>Ruth met her gaze, more intrigued and confused than she was angry or defensive, now. Whoever Meg was… she was hiding something. Ruth knew, and so did Emmanuel, that they had known her before, as well. She hadn't only known Dean. But, like all of their other memories, whatever their relationship with his demon had been, it was locked behind the wall in their heads.</p>
<p>Dean glared at Meg's back. "All right, can we <em>go</em>?"</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>The seating arrangement in the car had been decided in a short, intense argument that mostly consisted of neither Ruth nor Emmanuel fully trusting Meg enough to let her sit in the back with one of them, alone. In the end, Meg sat on the far right, Emmanuel in the middle, and Ruth on the left, beside him. Dean sat up front, driving, alone.</p>
<p>No one spoke. For a while, it was because of the tension in the back. Meg was fine, and she never did try to harm anyone in the car, and eventually, Ruth and Emmanuel were able to relax around her. Still, silence reigned, and there was a rigidity to the way that Dean sat, and held the steering wheel, that told her that he was stressed out about <em>something</em>. She thought it was probably about his brother, but…</p>
<p>Emmanuel, who had reverted back to his soft and gentle nature after realizing that Meg was not going to hurt anyone, was feeling <em>extremely</em> uneasy at this tense silence. Finally, he ventured to speak. "This silence is uncomfortable," he said. "Is there something I should know?"</p>
<p>"I dunno," said Meg, her voice dripping with something like sarcasm. "Dean?"</p>
<p>"No," said Dean. "Meg has that effect. Awkward, you know?"</p>
<p>Emmanuel, relieved that that was all it was, turned to look at Meg. "That must be difficult for you," he said, feeling truly sorry about her… aura of awkwardness.</p>
<p>Ruth closed her eyes and smiled tightly at Emmanuel's naïvety. She couldn't exactly blame him; six months spent around a highly religious woman (Daphne), reading almost nothing but the Bible, there hadn't been much time to learn about humor.</p>
<p>"Dean's making a joke, Emmanuel," Meg explained.</p>
<p>Emmanuel slowly faced forward again, and Ruth could feel him putting the pieces together. "Oh," he said, and chuckled.</p>
<p>And, despite everything, Ruth lit up to see him smile, to hear him laugh. She gazed at him, happily. He turned to her, a softer smile on his face now, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and kissed her. He felt no shame to be kissing her in front of two—for all intents and purposes—strangers. Somehow, she knew that, even before he had become Emmanuel, he had never shied away from showing her how he felt, no matter who was nearby. And she was grateful to him for it, for his relationship with her had been her one rock through these last six months. Of course, Daphne had been there, as well, but she could not kiss Daphne, or lay in her arms at night, and it had been a relief—though a selfish one—to know that she was not going through this strange amnesia by herself.</p>
<p>Ruth lay her head on Emmanuel's shoulder, and he rested his cheek on the top of her head.</p>
<p>They drove on.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Nineteen</em>
</p>
<p>It took another day to reach the hospital in which Sam was being kept. They stopped to eat and use the bathroom once, and were on their way again as quickly as possible. They parked once reaching the hospital, and got out of the car, but immediately, something was wrong.</p>
<p>"Oh, gracious," Emmanuel breathed staring across the street at the hoard of demons hanging around outside.</p>
<p>Ruth saw them too, and held Emmanuel's hand, squeezing hard. Her reaction to the last violent demon she had encountered, the one that had attacked her in Daphne's kitchen, suggested to her that she was not a runner. She was a fighter. But right then, she didn't feel much like fighting. In fact, she did not want to be here at all. It was selfish of her to think this way, but she only wanted to return to Daphne, to curl up in bed with Emmanuel, to sit and read by the window, to go to church on Sunday. It had never occurred to her that she or Emmanuel would run into someone who had known them from before they had lost their memories, and now that they stood there in the rainy dark, staring at all the demons that barred their way into the hospital, she wished she had never met Dean. Rather, that she had never re-met him.</p>
<p>Emmanuel heard her thoughts, felt her squeeze his hand, and he squeezed her own hand in return. He shared her sentiments, at least a little, but he, more than she, wanted to know who he had been. He had always been the one among them to feel that he had done something terrible in his past, and he had always been the one to want to know what it had been. He had worked so hard to make up for whatever it was that he had done that was so wrong. Now that he was here, if he could cure Sam's mind—which <em>he</em>, apparently, had been the one to break—then he would. Maybe that, breaking Sam's mind, had been the big, awful thing that he had done. Maybe he could finally fix everything and stop feeling so guilty for something he did not even remember doing.</p>
<p>Ruth took a deep breath and accepted that he was going to do whatever it took to fix Sam. And maybe after he did… they could return to Daphne's home and go back to their life.</p>
<p>Emmanuel smiled, just a little. "I would like that," he murmured.</p>
<p>Ruth became aware of the wedding ring on her finger, squeezed in Emmanuel's hand at the moment. It had become her habit to twist and twist the ring around her finger in times of stress, or when she was thinking deeply about something. She felt the urge to do it now. Emmanuel felt the urge coming from her and squeezed her hand, tightly.</p>
<p>Whatever was to happen in the future, right now they had demons to deal with.</p>
<p>Emmanuel sighed deeply, eyes flicking from demon to demon. He understood, without having to talk about it, what he needed to do. Before the demon had attacked Ruth in Daphne's house, he had not been aware of the power he had to smite these creatures. It made sense, considering that he was an angel, but he had, previously, spent so much time focused on <em>healing</em> others that the idea of <em>killing</em> someone, or some<em>thing</em>, bothered him. Whatever he had done in his past, the memory that was eluding him, had been violent; he knew that much. Now he was about to go down and murder multiple demons… as well as the human vessels containing them. He took a deep breath. <em>God forgive me</em>, he prayed.</p>
<p>Dean and Meg had been watching him. "What are you thinking?" Dean asked the angel, his voice slow and cautious, as if afraid of the answer.</p>
<p>Emmanuel lifted his head and looked at Dean over his shoulder. "I'll be back," he said, letting go of Ruth's hand. He began to walk down the hill towards the hospital. Ruth, as if pulled along by an invisible tether, began to follow him. He turned back towards her, cupping her face in his hands. "Stay here," he said, his voice gentle, quiet, loving. Right then, in that moment, he was still Emmanuel. But when he went down to face the demons, he would have to become Castiel.</p>
<p>"You come back to me," Ruth said, fiercely, and she knew that he knew what she meant. She was not worried about him dying; she knew the extent of the power that flowed through his veins. She worried that, were he to return to being Castiel, and to become Castiel in order to commit such a terrible act of violence, that any vestiges of <em>Emmanuel</em>—dear, sweet, soft Emmanuel—would be wiped away.</p>
<p>He looked down at her sadly, and then pressed his forehead against hers. "I'll try," he murmured. He released her face and turned away again, moving resolutely towards the hospital. Towards the demons. Towards fate.</p>
<p>Ruth stood and watched, helplessly.</p>
<p>Behind her, she heard Dean say, "This ain't gonna go well."</p>
<p>"I don't know," Meg replied, "I believe in the little tree topper."</p>
<p>Ruth clenched her right hand into a fist, and spun her wedding band around on her finger with her left thumb. Her heart rate increased.</p>
<p>Emmanuel grabbed hold of the first demon by the shirt and yanked him forward, pressing his palm to the creature's forehead. Light poured from its eyes and mouth as it died.</p>
<p>Unaware of what was going on around her, Ruth fell to the ground, clutching her head in her hands. Memories began to flow into her mind, blinding her to the outside world.</p>
<p>
  <em>She sat tied to a chair in a warehouse, surrounded by demons. And there was Castiel. And Castiel was light, and life, and beauty, and destruction. Terrifying and wonderful.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You can see me," he said—</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There he was again, running beside her at Bobby's house, taking off like a rocket to show her how fast he could run—</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There he was, saving her from herself, from a nightmare she had had. Telling her they could not be what she wanted. Kissing her, anyways.</em>
</p>
<p>A thousand-thousand memories, big and small flowed into her.</p>
<p>
  <em>The ecstasy of Castiel flowing into her body, leaving behind a piece of himself. A part of his Grace.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Small smiles, touches, the Apocalypse. Watching in horror as Castiel exploded, on the field with Lucifer. The joy she felt when she saw him returned to life.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The year she spent without him. The strangeness within him when he returned, the secrets they kept. The secrets.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh, God.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The souls. All those souls. The awful, terrible thing that Castiel had done, absorbing all the souls of Purgatory, thinking himself the new God; being controlled by the Leviathans in his body… </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>That day, at the reservoir. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And all that time, Ruth—Brooke—had known. She had known, and said nothing. She could have stopped it. She could have stopped all of it, maybe, if she had just told Sam and Dean. And she had done nothing. She had placed blind faith in Castiel, even after he had begun to show signs of hubris, fits of anger and impatience. She had been complicit. She'd been an accomplice to his crimes… </em>
</p>
<p>Slowly, slowly, she returned to herself. She clutched her head between her fingers, pulling her body inward. She realized she was crying. She felt the gravel in her knees, the cold air on her skin. She sucked in breath after breath. A pair of legs appeared at her side, and she looked up in surprise to see that it was Meg. Meg who did not look at her, did not touch her or offer words of comfort. But she stood beside her, nonetheless.</p>
<p>Another pair of legs appeared. The angel whose name she no longer knew (Emmanuel? Castiel?) gently pulled her to her feet. The gentleness, at least, was still there, in the way he touched her, if not in his face. For they had <em>both</em> remembered who they were, and Castiel, now, was wracked by guilt. The weight of it crushed him, and he wanted nothing more than to flee, but not without the woman who shared part of his Grace, the woman with whom he had lived as husband and wife for the past six months. They were both guilty, and they would both go far away, and live with their guilt, together.</p>
<p>"That was beautiful, Clarence," Meg said, breaking them both out of their terrible thoughts.</p>
<p>"Cass?" Dean asked, voice full of hesitance and worry.</p>
<p>Emmanuel—no—Castiel did not immediately look at Dean. "I remember you," he said, his voice harsh, his face grim. He stared down at Ruth—Brooke—but he did not truly see her. Finally, he looked up and faced the man whom he had betrayed so completely. "I remember everything." He looked down and away, his eyes beginning to water.</p>
<p>Brooke, who also remembered everything, knew how difficult it was for Castiel to work up enough emotion to even come close to crying. She stared up at him sadly, her hands on his chest, as he tried to gather himself.</p>
<p>"What I did," Castiel murmured. "What I <em>became</em>." He glanced up at Dean again, and his voice, now, came out as a growl. "Why didn't you tell me?"</p>
<p>"Because Sam is dying in there—</p>
<p>"<em>Because of me</em>," Castiel snapped, emphasizing each word, his voice rising to match the emotions beginning to boil inside him. Anger, disgust, self-hatred.</p>
<p>Brooke began to cry again, softly, for she knew there was nothing she could do or say to help him with this, nor could she help <em>herself</em>. She said nothing because she felt the same feelings, the same self-hatred. In saying nothing, doing nothing to stop Castiel from becoming the monster that he had, she might as well have been the one to absorb all those souls… to kill all those priests and healers… to kill all those angels… to release the Leviathans.</p>
<p>"Everything," Castiel continued. "All these people…" He shook his head. "I shouldn't be here." He began to walk, briskly, away.</p>
<p>Brooke followed, as she always did.</p>
<p>"Cass," Dean called. "Cass!"</p>
<p>Neither of them stopped at his call.</p>
<p>Dean came after them both, stumbling along the hill with them both. "If you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time." He was speaking to both of them, both Castiel's actions and Brooke's complacency.</p>
<p>"<em>Don't</em> defend me," Castiel said, refusing to slow down. "Do you have any idea the death toll in Heaven? On Earth?" Finally, the angel stopped and turned to face the man. "We didn't part friends, Dean."</p>
<p>Dean stared at Castiel, then at Brooke, then back at Castiel. "So what?" he asked, and he sounded tired.</p>
<p>"I <em>deserved</em> to die," Castiel said.</p>
<p>And Brooke, despite all that she had just remembered, all that she knew, stared up at Castiel and began to slowly shake her head.</p>
<p>Dean stared silently at Castiel, as well, and he didn't exactly look like he disagreed.</p>
<p>"Now, I can't possibly fix it," the angel said, "so why did I even walk out of the reservoir?"</p>
<p>"Maybe <em>to</em> fix it," Dean answered.</p>
<p>Castiel turned away.</p>
<p>Brooke placed a hand on her arm, feeling at once like she wanted to throw herself off the nearest cliff, and kneel at the feet of the angel before her. Torn, she simply stood and touched his arm and stared into his face.</p>
<p>"Wait," Dean said, and turned to the car that they had drove to the hospital in.</p>
<p>Vaguely, Brooke wondered where the Impala was.</p>
<p>Dean opened the trunk and pulled something out of it. In his hands he held Castiel's trench coat. He had kept it, all this time.</p>
<p>Castiel stared down at it, at a loss for words, and slowly took it from Dean's hands.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke stood quietly beside Castiel as the angel—her husband—explained to Dean that he could not rebuild the wall in Sam's mind.</p>
<p>Dean leaned against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. "So, you're saying there's nothing? That he's gonna be like this until his candle blows out?"</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," Castiel said, shaking his head. "This isn't a problem I can make disappear. And you know that."</p>
<p>They all stared at Sam for a moment.</p>
<p>A glimmer of an idea lit up in Castiel's mind. Brooke felt it. She felt it, and she hated it, and she knew it was the only way. She would give anything to see Sam healed from this awful mess… But the thought of <em>that</em>.</p>
<p><em>No</em>, she told him, automatically, though her resolve was weak.</p>
<p><em>It's the only way</em>, he replied.</p>
<p>"No!" she yelled, loudly, sharply, and gripped him by the collar of his trench coat.</p>
<p>He gripped her face in both hands, just as tightly. His fingers dug into her face. "<em>It is… the only… way</em>," he repeated, slowly, emphatically. <em>And you know I would deserve this</em>, he added in his mind, so that only she could hear.</p>
<p>"Hey, hey!" Dean said. "What the hell are you two talking about?"</p>
<p>Brooke, who knew that there would be no talking Castiel out of this, tried, anyways. She tried, even as her conscience told her that Sam was more important, that Sam did not deserve what had happened to him, that Sam deserved his life, his old life.</p>
<p>"You are my <em>husband</em>," she hissed. "Just because we remember who we are… it doesn't <em>erase</em> the last six months. I told you to come <em>back to me, Emmanuel</em>."</p>
<p>Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, at the name. "You know we can never…"</p>
<p>Hot tears leaked from her eyes. "Why not?" she asked, but her spirit had broken. She was too tired, it was too much, and she knew that he would not give in. "You don't know what it will do to you."</p>
<p>"I'm an angel," Castiel murmured. "If Sam can take it, insane or not, then <em>I </em>can."</p>
<p>Brooke was nodding, slowly, beginning to accept the inevitable. "Just tell me… that I am still your wife. That the last six months don't suddenly mean nothing to you, now that you remember."</p>
<p>He gazed at her sadly, but somewhere in all that dark depression, there was a glimmer of love for her. "You and I are bonded far beyond matrimonial ties," he said. "But yes, you are my wife. I still see you as such. I will <em>always</em> see you, know you, as my wife." He brought his head down to hers.</p>
<p>Brooke breathed him in—one, two, three, four, five—and then released him.</p>
<p>Castiel looked down at her. "I cannot be mentally connected to you while I do this," he said, sadly. "It could make me insane, kill me, I don't know. And I won't let that happen to you."</p>
<p>"You know I deserve this as much as you do," she argued.</p>
<p>He sighed. "Perhaps, yes, but I won't let <em>this</em> be your punishment."</p>
<p>Brooke took a shaky breath and nodded.</p>
<p>Slowly, ever so slowly, Castiel began to pull away from her mind. The last time he had done this had been the night they had argued right before going after Eve. That seemed like a lifetime ago, now. Back then, he had pulled away from her all at once, and she'd blacked out. This time, he did it as delicately as he could. It still hurt like hell, but the pain was more emotional than physical.</p>
<p>Eventually, her head was empty, devoid of him, and she was left alone with only herself. He closed the door to his mind, so that when she tried to reach out to him, she felt nothing. She burst into tears completely and sank to the floor in despair. Empty… she was empty. She could not hear that constant choir of Enochian in the background of her mind; she could not tell what he was feeling, could not sense those quiet, wordless emotions.</p>
<p>Still, even with her eyes closed against the tears and the pain, she could <em>sense</em> him in the room. Even without their mental connection, the Grace in her blood sang in tune with the Grace inside him. She clung to that feeling, for it was all she had left.</p>
<p>"What the <em>hell</em> is going on?" Dean asked, his voice urgent, confused.</p>
<p>Castiel went and sat down on Sam's bed. He turned and looked at Dean, saying, "It's better this way. I'll be fine."</p>
<p>"Wait, Cass, what are you doing?" Dean asked. He turned to Brooke. "What is he doing?"</p>
<p>Brooke opened her mouth to explain, but Castiel was speaking to Sam in a loud voice.</p>
<p>"Now, Sam, this may hurt. And if I can't tell you again, I'm sorry I ever did this to you." He placed his hand upon Sam's forehead and began to draw the insanity of Hell into himself.</p>
<p>Immediately, his Grace began to pulse faster and faster, the pitch higher and higher. This happened when he was fighting, or in danger, or angry; like a heartbeat. The pulses grew more and more erratic. Around her, there was noise and motion. Sam sat up in bed and Dean went to him and there were words spoken, but Brooke was somewhere far away, fighting the Grace that wanted nothing more than to tear her to pieces. Even without the ability to see and hear exactly what was going on in Castiel's head, she could tell that something was very, very wrong.</p>
<p>The angel had gotten up and backed into the wall, staring at Sam as if he were a monster. Brooke had never, ever seen Castiel react to something like that, react as if he were a small, helpless child. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him, hold him, but in so doing, she might shatter the mental barrier—the only thing that was preventing <em>her</em> from going insane, too. She needed to get out of the room, to get away from Castiel, or she might be driven insane merely from the feel of the Grace in her body shaking, sparking, tearing at her insides, fighting some invisible threat.</p>
<p>She pulled herself up off the floor and stumbled from the room. It was a strange sensation, for the farther she moved away from him, the better she felt, physically; yet, she wanted nothing more than to run back into the room, to hold him, to rip Lucifer from his mind, to protect the angel who had spent so much time protecting her. But she knew there was nothing she could do. To touch him would be disastrous. If there was any hope of saving him, she needed to keep her own faculties.</p>
<p>She found herself outside, near the car. Meg was nearby, hanging around, and she wandered up to Brooke. "Something happen to Clarence?" she asked, trying to sound casual, but Brooke knew better.</p>
<p>She explained what had happened to Castiel, avoiding looking at Meg to give the demon some semblance of a private reaction to the news. Brooke knew that Meg had some kind of feelings for Castiel; whether those feelings were anything more than physical attraction, she was not sure, but she assumed it had to be more than that, or she would not have stuck around this long. Brooke also knew that she and Meg shared a strange, if distant, bond, because Brooke had once helped to save her life, connecting their minds together to figure out where she was being held and tortured.</p>
<p>Meg stood quietly after she was given the news of Castiel's mental condition. Brooke leaned against the car, waiting for Sam and Dean to come out. They appeared a few minutes later and made their way to the car. Sam looked like hell, but at least Lucifer wasn't hanging out in his head anymore.</p>
<p>"Hey, guys," Dean said, coming up to Brooke and Meg. "Look, Cass is… he's not taking it well." He glanced at Brooke. "Did you tell Meg?"</p>
<p>Brooke nodded.</p>
<p>"Right, so…" Dean sighed. "Look, I don't know what to do with him. We can't take him with us—not in his condition. But we can't just leave him there, by himself. He's an angel. The humans working there won't know what the hell is up with him…"</p>
<p>"I'll stay," Brooke and Meg said, at the same time.</p>
<p>They turned and stared at one another.</p>
<p>Brooke's immediate instinct was to tell Meg to go fuck herself, but she was too tired, and she knew that Meg was not your run of the mill demon. She sighed, and nodded silently. The second-best person to watch over Castiel was someone who understood angels, and even if Meg was a <em>demon</em>, she was not ignorant about her celestial opposites. Besides, Meg didn't sleep, and that would be helpful.</p>
<p>Sam and Dean were watching the two of them, and Dean looked very uncomfortable. "Meg, you don't need to—</p>
<p>"Of course I don't," the demon interrupted him. "So what?"</p>
<p>Dean studied her for a moment, then turned to Brooke. "And you're fine with this?"</p>
<p>Brooke sighed deeply, slowly. "Meg knows that if she ever hurts Castiel, I will hunt her down, and kill her slowly and painfully." She said the words flatly, as a fact, without looking at the demon.</p>
<p>"Kinky," Meg said, but did not argue.</p>
<p>Dean glared at Meg for a moment longer, then sighed. "Fine. Call us if Cass gets better, or…" <em>Or worse</em>, he was thinking, and they all knew it, but none of them said it.</p>
<p>"I don't have a phone anymore," Brooke said. She had put her cellphone into a drawer back at Daphne's house, without ever charging it, and had long ago forgotten about it.</p>
<p>Dean rolled his eyes and pulled one of his out of his coat pocket. "Use this one," he said, handing it to her.</p>
<p>There was an awkward pause.</p>
<p>"Listen," Brooke began. "I'm sorry—</p>
<p>Dean shook his head, putting his hands up. "No time," he said, "and I don't care. Look, I'm angry at <em>both </em>of you. Cass went off the deep end and you just… you said nothing, to any of us."</p>
<p>"I know."</p>
<p>"But we're past that, because we don't have time to hash that out, okay?"</p>
<p>Brooke nodded, moving away from the car so that Dean could get into the driver's side. She thought of something, all of a sudden, and flinched. "H-how's Bobby?" she asked, wondering secretly if he was angry at her for all the secrets she had kept for Castiel.</p>
<p>Dean, his hand on the door handle, stopped dead. Sam, who had been halfway around to the passenger side, also stopped.</p>
<p>Immediately, Brooke's heart dropped into her stomach. "What happened to him?" she whispered, her heart pounding already.</p>
<p>Dean did not turn to face her, and Sam could not meet her eyes.</p>
<p>"He's dead," Dean said, and then he got into the car and slammed the door shut.</p>
<p>Sam quickly got into the passenger side and they were gone in seconds, tires screeching loudly.</p>
<p>Brooke stood and watched the car disappear in the dark, holding herself. She could feel herself slipping into a complete mental breakdown, between everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. She and Castiel had gained their memories back, and remembered what terrible thing they had done; Castiel had absorbed Sam's Hell insanity and gone insane himself; and now she knew that Bobby was dead. Bobby, the man who had taken her into his home so long ago, when Castiel had so unceremoniously dropped her off on his front porch. Bobby, who had been the closest thing to a father she had ever known.</p>
<p><em>Dead</em>.</p>
<p>Meg stood beside her for a few minutes, but soon turned and went into the hospital.</p>
<p>Brooke stayed where she was, staring into the darkness, feeling her mind slowly fracture.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Twenty</em>
</p>
<p>It was two weeks into Castiel's hospital stay. He had fallen into a coma the same night that he had absorbed Sam's insanity into himself. Brooke, meanwhile, had utilized skills she hadn't needed to use in a long time, stealing wallets and a car. She drove the car one state away, stole another car, and left the first one where it was. She changed the plates on the second car, and drove back down to where Castiel was. She lived in the car, slept in the car, ate crap food, and waited.</p>
<p>Sometimes, rarely, she would come into the room to see him. Meg was there, too. She'd somehow gotten a job as a staff member of the hospital; she spent her time watching over Castiel as he lay in the bed, unmoving. Meg kept the other staff members away so that they would not begin to wonder why the man in the room did not need an IV drip, did not need to be cleaned up or checked on. Meg was a Godsend, although Brooke knew she needed to come up with a better term.</p>
<p>Even being near Castiel when he was comatose was hell on her body. She could feel it just entering the building, that pulling, scratching, roiling sensation as the Grace inside her reacted to the closeness of the Grace inside him. The closer she got to his room, the harder it was to keep going; the closer she got, the farther away she wanted to be. Whatever was going on inside the angel's head as he lay so still and quiet on his bed… well… looks could be deceiving.</p>
<p>Being away from him was not much better, however. At night, she'd lay in the back seat of the car, close her eyes, and try to sleep. She succeeded about half the time, and when she <em>did</em> succeed, her reward was nightmares. Never-ending nightmares. They would disappear into strange, unidentifiable shapes and bad feelings in the morning, so she was never sure what they were about or why she was having them. She could only assume that, due to the tie of Castiel's Grace, even severed from his mind, she was never truly cut off from him. Sleep was the one time her mind was open enough to receive and understand whatever was happening to him in his coma. Asleep, she shared his horrors, but once she was awake, the severed connection kept the bad juju away.</p>
<p>It was either that, or… She was simply having normal nightmares, like every other Hunter on the planet. Nightmares of past Hunts, close shaves, nightmares about the things that go bump in the night. Courage, after all, was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. Hunters were afraid every time they went after a monster, but they did it, anyways. The nightmares were their reward.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Two and a half weeks into Castiel's hospital stay, Brooke attempted to thank Meg for watching over the angel while she could not. She came into the room in which he slept and stood at the foot of his bed, fighting the Grace in her blood and bones, trying to keep control of herself. Meg sat, reading a magazine, and ignored her.</p>
<p>"Hey," Brooke said, eventually, but did not look at Meg.</p>
<p>Meg said nothing.</p>
<p>"Listen, I just wanted to thank you," Brooke continued, not to be deterred by the demon's silent treatment. "You don't have to be here, but you stayed, so—</p>
<p>"Shut up," Meg said, but there was no real malice in her voice.</p>
<p>Brooke finally dared to glance at Meg out of the corner of her eye, forcing herself to focus on the human shell and not the true face underneath. Meg was smirking at her, which was about the closest thing to a smile that she would probably ever attempt. Her gaze was at once challenging and accepting.</p>
<p>And Brooke understood. She smiled, looking down at her feet, and nodded.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Three weeks in, she got a call from Dean telling her not to eat any fast food, since none of them were exactly sure which chains were safe from Dick Roman, the Leviathan in charge of all the others.</p>
<p>"What the hell am I supposed to eat, then?" she demanded. "It's not like I have a kitchen in my car to cook food in!"</p>
<p>"Figure it out," Dean snapped at her.</p>
<p>Brooke figured he was about to hang up, but he didn't. She could hear him breathing. "What?" she asked, her voice less hostile.</p>
<p>"Bobby's a ghost," Dean said.</p>
<p>"<em>What</em>?"</p>
<p>"He… he stayed behind. He ran from his Reaper and stayed behind, and became a ghost."</p>
<p>Brooke closed her eyes, already feeling tears welling up in the corners.</p>
<p>Dean explained how they had discovered that Bobby was still among them, the case with Annie and the haunted house, Bobby's flask, which Dean had kept. Brooke listened silently, trying not to cry.</p>
<p>When Dean was done, she said, "Tell him… Tell him I said…" She could not get the words out.</p>
<p>"I will," Dean replied, knowing full well what she had been trying to say. "He says he misses you."</p>
<p>"Yeah," she whispered.</p>
<p>Dean hung up.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>A month into Castiel's hospital stay, he awoke from his coma. Brooke, who had taken to going to bed earlier and earlier in an attempt to get any kind of sleep, was drifting off when it happened. It was late enough to be dark but early enough for her not to be tired yet. Still, in the darkness of the back seat, cocooned in a blanket she had bought at the beginning of all this, she could feel herself slowly drifting into dream land. <em>Please let them be good dreams</em>, she thought—</p>
<p>She sat up, suddenly, knowing, somehow, that Castiel had woken up. She sat in the back seat of the car, eyes flitting here and there, looking at nothing. She reached inward, sensing the Grace in her body; that had been what had told her, for the Grace inside her was still Castiel's, even if it resided in <em>her</em> body. And something had shifted.</p>
<p>Without thinking, she untangled herself from the blanket, got out of the car, and tore through the night towards the hospital, sprinting the whole way. She took the stairs up to Castiel's floor because running would be faster than the elevator. She bolted down the hallway and slammed the door open, then fell halfway over, her hands on her knees, sucking air into her lungs. Finally, she looked up, searching for Castiel. She found him, standing beside the window, looking out.</p>
<p>"Cass," she said, her voice breaking from all the cold air she had just sucked into her lungs.</p>
<p>He turned and smiled at her. "Hello," he said.</p>
<p>She stared at him. She had been with him for years, and even if she wasn't in his mind right then, she had spent a long time studying his face, his expressions, his body language. Something was very wrong.</p>
<p>"Cass," she repeated, and took a step towards him—</p>
<p>He flinched—he physically <em>flinched</em>, and leaned back, away from her, even though she was still all the way across the room, standing by the door.</p>
<p>She stopped, her hand hovering in the air, reaching toward him. She took a breath, confused, and a little hurt, and lowered her arm. "Cass," she repeated for the third time, and her voice came out as a whisper.</p>
<p>Vaguely, she was aware of Meg standing in the room, by the bed, but she paid the demon no mind. Whatever was going was between herself and Castiel.</p>
<p>"Please," the angel said, and his voice, too, came out as a whisper. "Please, I don't… I can't… I—</p>
<p>He seemed to break, to crumple, his face falling, finally dropping that over-wide smile.</p>
<p>"What is it?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Please stop calling me… Cass… I don't want to be… I can't…" He looked up at her, his mouth slightly open, as if he wanted to say something more. He began to cry. Truly cry—real tears.</p>
<p>Brooke stared at him in shock. He had never cried before, ever, in her presence, and not in anyone else's presence either. He was an angel. Angels didn't feel their emotions as deeply as humans did. He had come close, many times, but had never quite crossed the threshold, always able to hold himself back in the end—to get a grip on himself.</p>
<p>But there he was, standing before her, rocking on his feet, crying.</p>
<p>Automatically, she began to approach him again, wanting nothing more than to hold him, to comfort him.</p>
<p>"NO!" he yelled, his voice much more powerful in that moment than it had been for the past few minutes.</p>
<p>She stopped immediately, flinching.</p>
<p>"You don't understand," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm still… I-I'm not… my mind isn't…" A fresh wave of tears overtook him. He covered his mouth with his hand and turned toward the window again, his shoulders hunched.</p>
<p>Brooke nodded, finally understanding why he was so afraid to have her touch him. Whatever insanity he had absorbed from Sam was still wreaking havoc in his mind, and he did not want her to go insane from touching him, from breaking the mental barrier between them.</p>
<p>She stood still, watching him as sobs wracked his shoulders, watching as he seemed to shrink into himself. He placed his forehead against the window, and she had a sudden image of their foreheads pressed together, something they did often to comfort one another. Her eyes flitted around the room as she tried to think of something—anything—to do. Never before had she felt so helpless before him. Even when they had been in pain, before now, they had always had physical touch to comfort each other. Now, there was not even that to fall back on. She realized, then, how important touch was to their relationship. She hugged herself as she racked her brain. Briefly, she caught sight of Meg, still standing in the room; their eyes met. Meg raised her eyebrows at Brooke, as if to say, <em>Well</em>?</p>
<p>Brooke took a few deep breaths to calm herself, and thought harder. Castiel had just told her that he did not even want to be called Cass anymore. He did not like his own name. She didn't know exactly why he wouldn't want to be called by his own name, and wondered exactly what the Hell insanity was doing to his mind for that to occur. But… if he didn't want to be called Castiel…</p>
<p>Her eyes stilled on his form as an idea came to her. "Emmanuel," she said, her voice quiet, but loud enough for him to hear.</p>
<p>He was still crying, but he seemed to react a little to the name, as if he had been about to turn around, but had thought better of it.</p>
<p>"Emmanuel," she said, a little louder. "Would you like it if I called you Emmanuel?"</p>
<p>He finally turned to look at her again. His face was red from crying. He stared at her, but did not acknowledge her question in any visible way. Still, turning to face her again was something.</p>
<p>Brooke took a deep breath and very slowly, one step at a time, began to approach him again. He backed against the window, but she kept coming, accepting to herself that she might be about to go insane if she touched him. "Emmanuel," she said again.</p>
<p>He seemed entranced by her as she came toward him, his eyes widening. "Ruth," he said, his voice hoarse, cracking on her name, the name that she had been known by for the past six months.</p>
<p>She smiled at him, now within touching distance. "You can call me that if you like, Emmanuel." She repeated the name again, wanting to bring him to a sense of safety. Their lives as Emmanuel and Ruth had been safe, cocooned, happy.</p>
<p>Slowly, her fingers trembling, she reached up and touched his cheek.</p>
<p>He inhaled sharply, almost pulling away from her, but then he sank into her touch, rubbing his cheek against her hand like a cat, his eyes closed.</p>
<p>And she finally understood. It wasn't the insanity from Sam's Hell wall breaking down that had gotten him so upset. It was the guilt of all that he had done before he had woken up and pulled himself out of the reservoir with no memory. It was lying to Sam and Dean, to Bobby, to <em>her</em>; it was making plans with the demon Crowley; it was the way he acted to his friends, so short-tempered, impatient, angry; it was all the people he had killed while the Leviathans had been inside his body; it was releasing that threat into the world, and then going on his merry way, living a good life with Brooke for the next six months, not knowing what he had done. He had not deserved that happiness, for he had caused so much destruction, and despair.</p>
<p>He was ashamed. He hated himself.</p>
<p>He was broken, and he was on the verge of entirely Hell-free mental breakdown. She could <em>feel </em>his mind slowly fracturing, even as he tried to hold himself together.</p>
<p>"I don't want to fight anymore," he whispered, bringing his forehead down to hers, closing his eyes, tears still running down his face.</p>
<p>"Okay," she said, quietly.</p>
<p>"I can't. Every time I do, I… I destroy… everything."</p>
<p>Brooke did not believe that, but this was not a time to argue with him about how he felt about himself. Feelings were subjective, and no amount of fact was going to make him see himself in a better light.</p>
<p>"Okay," she said again. "All right."</p>
<p>"Please," he begged.</p>
<p>"Hey," she whispered, pulling back from him enough to cup his face in her hands. "I won't make you do anything. I won't make you fight anymore. I won't make you be Castiel, if you don't want to be. We can… we can go away somewhere, if you want."</p>
<p>Something like joy tingled between them for just a moment, and then he fell, again, into despair. "Sam and Dean will want to know I'm awake," he said. "I won't run from them."</p>
<p>Brooke sighed. "They'll want you to fight, if you're able."</p>
<p>"Then I'll tell them I won't," he replied, and his voice seemed much harder, more stable, more determined. He wiped at his eyes, the last of the tears seeming to dry up.</p>
<p>Brooke stood with him, casting her mind out to the future, wondering what it held for them both. Wondering if he truly would never fight again. What would they do with their lives if that was true?</p>
<p>Castiel—Emmanuel—plastered a smile back onto his face, even as his mind continued to fracture, and placed a hand on her cheek. "We'll do… whatever we want to."</p>
<p>She looked into his eyes, red from crying. "What do <em>you</em> want to do?" she asked.</p>
<p>He gazed down at her, then looked around the room, his mind buzzing with ideas. On the surface, he seemed much more sure of himself than he had when she'd first come in. But she could read his mind, feel his emotions, hear his thoughts, and still, his mind was slowly coming apart under the strain of all that guilt, all that pain, weighing on him. But he pushed it down, and pushed it down, and began to think of happier things. Of beautiful places in nature he would like to go. He thought of those nature hikes that he and Brooke and Daphne had taken on Saturdays. He thought of a long-ago conversation in the car that Brooke had started with him, asking him what he would want to do if he didn't have to be a soldier anymore. He had told her might like to work in nature, maybe be a gardener.</p>
<p>And all the while, small parts of his mind kept drifting back to all the pain he was feeling, to all the pain he had caused. Occasionally, the smile would falter on his lips, and then he would bring it back, forcefully.</p>
<p>Brooke stayed with him, in his arms, and tried, for his sake, to push down all the worry she felt for him. She had been with him this long, and she was not about to go anywhere <em>now</em>. If he wanted to go off and live in some forest somewhere, surrounded by trees and butterflies and… bees? he kept thinking of bees… then that was fine with her.</p>
<p>In her body, she could feel the ever-present hum of Grace, in tune with the rest of the Grace in his own body. It hummed in tandem with his, and that was really how she could tell that something was wrong, still. His Grace, acting almost like a heartbeat, would skitter and jump as he tried to stay positive, but failed, and thought of all the horrible things that he had done.</p>
<p>Brooke breathed, and held her angel in her arms, closing her eyes and burying her face against his chest. Slowly, very slowly, the sudden jumps in his Grace, the sudden high-pitched shrieks—like pressing down too hard on a violin—began to dissipate, but she could not make them go away entirely. This was something that he would have to deal with, partly, on his own. He would have to come to terms with himself.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>A/N: Changing the timing of some things to fit better with the story.</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Twenty-one</em>
</p>
<p>It took two days for Sam and Dean to arrive at the hospital after Meg called them with the report that Castiel had woken up. Brooke would have called them, except that she had been very, very busy with the angel, who had been dragging her all over the Earth. They had been to forests, and gardens, and parks. One zoo, as well, though Castiel, whom Brooke was now only calling Emmanuel, did not like the zoo. He had hated the idea of all these animals being caged against their will, forced to live here to alleviate the boredom of humans.</p>
<p>At the end of a seven-to-ten-hour day, he would teleport them both back to her car, wherein she would fall asleep. He would go off again, on his own, unable to hold still for even a few seconds—for if he stopped moving, stopped crowding his mind and body with new experiences, with beautiful things, he would remember all the terrible things he had done. He would remember that he hated himself. He would remember that he was afraid of himself, of what he was capable of, that his name was not truly Emmanuel, that he was an angel, and that he had brought Leviathans to the Earth. He would remember that he had spent nearly a year lying to his best friends, to his family.</p>
<p>Thus, he never slowed down. He never stopped. He never gave himself time to think about things that would cause him pain.</p>
<p>Brooke figured this type of behavior—avoiding anything that brought mental pain—was probably not the healthiest thing in the world. But she'd be damned if she was the reason that he had a complete breakdown. She had been there for him, on his side, from the very beginning, even when she hadn't agreed with his actions, and she did not plan to turn away from him now. Still… being near him was exhausting. He was an angel; he didn't need sleep. But <em>she</em> did. At the end of those long days, even as she smiled at the memories they had made in those beautiful places, she fell asleep almost instantly.</p>
<p>The morning of the day in which Sam and Dean would arrive, she awoke to find Castiel sitting in the passenger seat of her car. She sat up sleepily, still folded in her blanket. "Cass," she said, still half-asleep, and shook her head. "Sorry. Emmanuel."</p>
<p>He <em>whooshed</em> into the backseat, and Brooke smiled and closed her eyes at the feel of the breeze his wings created. It was a warm breeze, like a summer afternoon. He did not look at her, except to glance at her out of the corner of his eye, but he held out his hand. In it, there sat a piece of chocolate, wrapped in foil. "I went to France to get this for you," he said, his voice already taking on that sort of wild, frantic excitement he had adopted over the past few days. "It's safe from… from the…"</p>
<p><em>The Leviathans</em>.</p>
<p>"Thank you," she said, and smiled, taking the chocolate from his hand. She unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth, letting it melt on her tongue. She leaned her head back against the seat.</p>
<p>"Where do you want to go today?" he asked her.</p>
<p>"Anywhere," said Brooke, resigning herself to being exhausted at the end of the day for the third day in a row.</p>
<p>He did not say anything, but in the verbal silence, there lay a twisting, niggling thought slowly worming its way to the forefront of his mind. He was… afraid.</p>
<p>"What's wrong?" she asked, fully expecting him to dodge the question.</p>
<p>"Sam and Dean are coming today," he answered.</p>
<p>She turned her head to look at him. "Ah," she murmured.</p>
<p>"What if…" he began, his eyes wide, but he could not finish the question.</p>
<p>Brooke knew what he was thinking, however. <em>What if they don't like me, what if they hate me, what if they blame me? What if they want me to fight, what if they want me to be Castiel, to be a warrior, a soldier? What if they expect me to act like nothing happened—</em></p>
<p>"Stop," Brooke said, turning fully in the seat so that her body faced him, and cupping his face in her hands.</p>
<p>The flurry of thoughts quieted, but not completely. His eyes were still too wide, and they would not meet hers, instead flicking around the interior of the car. He was like a cornered animal, and she could feel his urge to flee, to teleport away, to focus on anything but the pain.</p>
<p>"Sam and Dean cannot make you do anything you don't want to do," Brooke said, trying to calm him, trying to think of the right words. "And they're your friends. They love you." She paused, not wanting to flat-out lie to him, and knowing that she couldn't do that, anyways. Their minds were linked; anything she said aloud was something he had already heard coming from her mind. "They might… be upset. I don't know. But I have to believe that, in the end, they just want you to be happy."</p>
<p>"I have this idea," he said. "I tried it while you were sleeping. Meg doesn't exactly like it, but I think Sam and Dean will."</p>
<p>Brooke squinted at him.</p>
<p>"Here, come with me," he said, and, without waiting, he teleported them both out of the car.</p>
<p>Brooke blinked a few times, disoriented, and looked around. They were in Castiel's hospital room. There sat Meg, in her chair, with her feet up on the bed, listening to music and reading a magazine. It was as if she hadn't moved in days. She glanced up at the two of them, and took one earbud out. "What?"</p>
<p>Castiel smiled—too widely—at her. "I want to show Brooke the joke," he said.</p>
<p>Brooke stood back and looked at Castiel. "<em>You</em>… came up with a <em>joke</em>?"</p>
<p>"Yes," Castiel said.</p>
<p>Meg rolled her eyes. "This again?" she asked, getting up out of the chair. "You've already busted three lights."</p>
<p>"Brooke will think it's funny," Castiel said, and turned to her. "Won't you?"</p>
<p>"I… I don't know what it is yet," she replied, slowly, and tried to figure out what it was by searching Castiel's mind.</p>
<p>He withheld the thought from her. "No fair," he said. "It won't be funny if you know what it is ahead of time."</p>
<p>Brooke rolled her eyes and sighed. "All right. What is it?"</p>
<p>Castiel glanced up at the light over his head, and smiled. Then he held out a finger to Brooke, his pointer finger. "Pull my finger," he said.</p>
<p>Brooke stared at him, but thought that she understood, now. With a cautious smile, she pulled his finger—</p>
<p>The light above the angel's head shattered, loudly, raining glass down on top of them. Brooke stared in shock at Castiel, even though she knew what had been about to happen. Then she burst out laughing, and it was true laughter. The surprise of how loud it had been was about half the reason for the laughter, but Castiel didn't seem to mind.</p>
<p>His entire face lit up at her laughter, like a child, and he laughed with her—a rare, beautiful sound… and nothing like the strange chuckle that would come from his throat that night when Sam and Dean arrived. This was his true laughter, and for the first time in a long time, he felt genuinely happy, as if he'd been waiting for her to laugh like this forever.</p>
<p>And Brooke realized she had sort of fucked up in the last two days. All those places he had taken her to, he had wanted to share joy with her. And the entire time, she had only been thinking of how tired she would be, later. How tired she already was. Worrying about him. But he didn't want her to worry about him; he wanted to be happy with her. He wanted <em>her</em> to be happy.</p>
<p>He stilled as he heard her thoughts, and his mind, for once, seemed calm. The storm beating against him stopped, for just a moment or two. He gazed down at her, and she could see Castiel inside the shell of Emmanuel that he had put up around himself. His eyes softened, losing their wide, crazed quality. He touched her face, and leaned down to kiss her forehead, which was more physical intimacy than he had given her in the past two days. He had shied away when she tried to touch him, been afraid to kiss her, not in the right headspace to think of very romantic things.</p>
<p>That calm, however, did not last long. In another few moments, he pulled back from her and smiled too widely. "Do you think Sam and Dean will like it?"</p>
<p>Brooke smiled at him, but did not answer, for she truly didn't know what the boys would think of it. She didn't know what they would think of <em>him</em>. But she would protect him at all costs.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>That night, Brooke stood beside Castiel at the window as he anxiously awaited Sam and Dean's arrival. He stared out, into the night. She held his hand, and he would squeeze it occasionally, for reassurance.</p>
<p>"Hey, Cass," Dean's voice sounded behind them. "Brooke."</p>
<p>Castiel smiled, a little, before turning around. "Hello, Dean," he said, and Brooke could feel how hard he was trying to keep himself together in their presence—to keep his mind from fracturing. "Sam," he added, nodding at him.</p>
<p>"Hey, Castiel," Sam replied, smiling.</p>
<p>"Look at you, walkin' and talkin'," Dean said. "That's—that's great, right?" Dean was smiling, but the smile seemed forced, as if he was having a hard time keeping it up. He gazed at the angel with something like fear in his eyes.</p>
<p>Castiel approached the boys slowly. Brooke expected him to let go of her hand at some point, but he never did. She walked beside him. Slowly, he raised his right hand, offering Dean his pointer finger. "Pull my finger," he said.</p>
<p>Brooke tried her damndest to keep her face straight. Castiel had been agonizing over this stupid joke all day, and Brooke didn't want to ruin it. It was stupid, yes, but he cared deeply about it for some reason, and Brooke's job in that moment was to care about whatever her husband cared about. Yes, her husband. She hadn't forgotten about that in the past two days, as crazy as they had been. Both of them still had their wedding rings on.</p>
<p>Dean's face changed to one of utter confusion. He glanced at Castiel's finger, then up into the angel's face. "What?" he said.</p>
<p>"My finger," Castiel repeated, with a hidden smile. "Pull it."</p>
<p>It took Dean about ten seconds to find the courage to do so, and he glanced around the room before he did it, as if to silently ask, <em>What the fuck is going on?</em></p>
<p>Brooke forced her face into a neutral look, even though she wanted to laugh already.</p>
<p><em>BOOM!</em> went the light over Dean's head.</p>
<p>Brooke finally allowed herself to laugh, and laughed all the harder when she saw the look of shock on Sam and Dean's faces. She imagined that that was what <em>she</em> had looked like that morning.</p>
<p>Castiel laughed, too, but it was a sort of nervous chuckle.</p>
<p>Sam and Dean did not laugh.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>"Okay, just hang on, Cass," Dean said, a little later. "Wait. Let us catch up to you for a second."</p>
<p>"Emmanuel," Castiel said.</p>
<p>"What?" Dean asked.</p>
<p>"Emmanuel," the angel repeated.</p>
<p>Dean paused, staring at Brooke for a second. She shrugged at him. "Okay, I'm not calling you that," Dean said.</p>
<p>"So," Sam broke in. "You're saying you remember who you are, <em>what</em> you are."</p>
<p>"Yes, of course," Castiel said, then turned away from the window with a smile. "Oh. Outside, today, in the garden, I followed a honeybee! I saw the route of flowers. It's all right there, the whole plan. There's nothing to add."</p>
<p>Brooke smiled at the memory from earlier that day, watching Castiel down on his hands knees, among the flowers, smiling up at the bees as they buzzed around his head. That childlike wonder and excitement.</p>
<p>"You might want to add a little thorazine," Sam muttered.</p>
<p>"Right?" said Meg. "He's been like the naked guy at the rave ever since he woke up—totally useless."</p>
<p>"Will you look at her?" Castiel asked, smiling at Meg, gently. "My caretaker. All of that thorny pain. So beautiful."</p>
<p>"We've been over this," Meg replied, smirking at him. "I don't like poetry. Put up or shut up."</p>
<p>Brooke chuckled from her corner, watching the two of them. There was no jealousy between her and Meg. Meg knew that her flirtations with Castiel would never go anywhere, and Castiel, for his part, was not really flirting with Meg. He was simply stating truth. He did see her as beautiful, and that was fine with Brooke, for Brooke knew him, inside and out, and she knew, with certainty, that the idea of cheating had never even crossed his mind. She didn't think he was even capable of coming up with the idea. He had always been loyal, faithful, and she knew that was not about to change anytime soon. So, she allowed the looks that Meg shot in Castiel's direction, allowed the lingering stares. Sometimes, Meg looked at <em>her</em> that way. Brooke only ever smirked back, with a face that said, <em>Not gonna happen</em>.</p>
<p>Castiel turned to her, then. "And my wife," he said, cupping her face in his hands, smiling down at her with utter adoration. He bent down and pressed his forehead to hers. "My wife," he repeated, gentler, quieter. "I love you," he told her—something he had not said for a long time.</p>
<p>She forgot all others in the room, focusing only on him. "I love you too," she said.</p>
<p>"O-kay," Sam interrupted, clearing his throat loudly, and clapping his hands. "So, Cass, you said you woke up two days ago?"</p>
<p>"Yes," said Castiel, once again an excited puppy, turning to face the brothers. But all the while, he held Brooke's hand. "I heard a… <em>ping</em>… that pierced me, and, well… you wouldn't have heard it, unless you were an angel at the time."</p>
<p>Brooke snorted laughter. Castiel's explanation… His word choice was interesting, as if one could choose, at will, to become an angel, or not.</p>
<p>Castiel turned and looked at her with a big, bright smile, his face lighting up at her laughter.</p>
<p>Sam handed Castiel a backpack. Inside was some kind of tablet, with writing on it that Brooke did not recognize. Castiel held the backpack in one hand, looking down at the tablet. "Oh," he said, in a sing-song voice. "Of course. Now I understand."</p>
<p>"Understand what?" Sam asked.</p>
<p>Castiel looked up at the brothers. "You're the ones," he said. "Well…" He chuckled. "I guess that makes sense."</p>
<p>"What makes sense?" Dean demanded.</p>
<p>Castiel turned away, going back to the window, pulling Brooke gently along with him. "If someone was going to free the Word, from the vault of the Earth, it <em>would</em> end up being you two." He let go of Brooke's hand, with a somewhat apologetic look, and picked up the tablet. He stared down at it, for a moment, and then he turned to the brothers again, and said, "I love you guys," and yanked them both into a hug.</p>
<p>They took it, though awkwardly, patting his back with muffled "Yeahs" and "Okays."</p>
<p>After a moment, they pulled away and Sam continued, "You said something about <em>the Word</em>. Is that what's written on there?"</p>
<p>Castiel's mind fractured; he was beginning to fear that they would ask for his help in something, something that would require fighting. Sam and Dean were always fighting something, and he always had to get involved, to save them. "Did you know that a cat's penis is sharply barbed along its shaft? I know for a fact that the females were <em>not</em> consulted about that." <em>Deflect. Deflect</em>. He turned away, with a smile.</p>
<p>Sam and Dean stared at his back, then glanced at each other.</p>
<p>Brooke opened her mouth, to tell them to stop, but it was too late.</p>
<p>"Cass, please," Dean said. "We're losing ground out there, okay? We need your help."</p>
<p>Castiel busied himself, looking down at the tablet.</p>
<p>"Can you not see that?" Dean asked.</p>
<p>"This is the handwriting of Metatron," Castiel mused, staring harder at the tablet. <em>Deflect. Help, but don't help</em>. <em>Don't agree to fight. I don't want to fight. Don't make me fight.</em></p>
<p><em>They can't make you fight</em>, Brooke thought, placing a hand on his arm.</p>
<p>Castiel took a breath.</p>
<p>Sam confused Metatron with the <em>Transformer</em>, Megatron.</p>
<p>"Me-<em>ta</em>-tron," Castiel repeated, slower, turning back to Sam and Dean. "He's an angel, he's the scribe of God. He took down dictation when Creation was being formed."</p>
<p>"And that's the Word of God?" Sam asked, motioning towards the tablet in Castiel's hands.</p>
<p>"<em>One</em> of them, yes," the angel confirmed.</p>
<p>"Uh, what's it say, then?"</p>
<p>Castiel glanced at Brooke, and thought, <em>Watch. I'll joke with them again.</em> He looked down at the tablet, running his eyes across it, and said, "Tree." Then he glanced up at Sam and Dean, with a smile. "Horse? Fiddler crab? I can't read it, it wasn't meant for angels."</p>
<p>"Okay," Meg chimed in, sounding annoyed. "This all sounds bad. What are you two jackasses doing with the Word of God?" She motioned for the tablet. "Lemme see that thing," she said, moving toward Castiel.</p>
<p>Castiel turned toward her, about to hand it to her.</p>
<p>"<em>Back off, Meg</em>," Dean said, enunciating each word, slowly.</p>
<p><em>No</em>, thought Castiel, his mind fracturing at the sound of anger in Dean's voice.</p>
<p>"Come on, it's my ass, too," Meg argued, though she kept her voice friendly.</p>
<p>"Back off," Dean repeated, growling out the words, his eyes flaring.</p>
<p>"Damn it!" Meg yelled.</p>
<p><em>Stop</em>, thought Castiel, feeling the grip on his sanity slipping.</p>
<p>Brooke placed a hand on his arm.</p>
<p>"Enough of this 'Demons are second-class citizens' crap!" Meg continued, her voice raised.</p>
<p>The air shook as Castiel's Grace whined in a high-toned pitch that only the two of them could hear. "Don't like conflict," he said, and Brooke, who was still holding his arm, was teleported away with him.</p>
<p>They had not gone far. Castiel had teleported them down into the dayroom. They had not spent much time here over the past two days, Castiel being too busy dragging them to every beautiful place on Earth he could think to take them, but they had played a few boardgames as the day had wound down today.</p>
<p>Castiel stood beside her and took a deep breath, then another one.</p>
<p>"Emmanuel," Brooke whispered, knowing that the name brought him comfort. As Emmanuel, he had not fought, he had not killed anyone, he had not caused trouble. He had been a healer, he had helped others, he had been friendly and gentle, and kind.</p>
<p>He turned towards her, pressing his forehead to hers, and they breathed. At the end of five breaths, the high-pitched whine of his Grace had gone down, and the repetition of the hum was slower, like a heartbeat slowing down.</p>
<p>He pulled away and plastered a smile onto his face.</p>
<p>She smiled back at him, but concern niggled at her mind. She had been afraid this would happen. Dean wasn't known for his patience.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Castiel and Brooke were sitting beside one another at a table when Dean came down.</p>
<p>Castiel's Grace bubbled a little, like simmering water—not quite a boil—at his approach. Brooke placed a hand on his arm, and he stilled again.</p>
<p>Dean walked up to them both, glared at Castiel, then glanced at Brooke. "Could you give us some space?" he asked—demanded.</p>
<p>Castiel immediately said, "<em>No</em>," and his eyes went wide and frantic, like a rabid animal. "Please," he added, his voice cracking on the word.</p>
<p>Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and nodded. He returned to glaring at Castiel. "You realize you just <em>broke</em> God's Word."</p>
<p>Castiel could not hold Dean's gaze, his mind fracturing. He looked away, shifting uncomfortably, like a child being scolded by a parent. Brooke squeezed his hand under the table.</p>
<p>Dean sighed and sat down. "It's Sam thing, isn't it?"</p>
<p>Noting the calmer tone in Dean's voice, Castiel gazed at him again, head tilted to the side in confusion.</p>
<p>"You taking on his, uh, cage-match scars," Dean explained. "I'm guessing that's what broke your bank, right?"</p>
<p>Castiel smiled at Dean, and, for once, the smile seemed genuine. Dean wanted to understand. He wanted to sympathize. "Well, it took… everything to get me here," he replied.</p>
<p>Dean stared at him, uncomprehending. "What are you talking about, man?"</p>
<p>Castiel grew sad, realizing that there was no real way of explaining anything to the man. "Dean," he said, his voice soft. "I know you want different answers…"</p>
<p>Brooke sat in her chair and attempted to blend into the background, wanting to be there for Castiel, but not wanting to ruin the shared moment between the angel and the man he had saved from Hell. Brooke had never pretended that she was the only one who felt bonded to Castiel; she had always known that Castiel loved Dean, as a friend, as a brother… sometimes, as something more, though that part of Castiel was hidden even from himself.</p>
<p>"No," said Dean, growing angry again. "I want you button up your coat and help us take down Leviathans."</p>
<p>Castiel stared at him sadly.</p>
<p>"Do you remember what you did?" Dean asked.</p>
<p>Castiel continued to stare, with a small smile, his eyes soft. He pulled the board game over to him, the one that he had picked out minutes before and laid on the table especially for this moment. He turned it around and showed it to Dean: <em>Sorry!</em></p>
<p>Castiel shook the board game container, and the board suddenly lay in front of them, the pieces already set. There were only enough for two players, Castiel's way of telling Dean that he knew the man wished this conversation were private.</p>
<p><em>I can go</em>, Brooke thought to him.</p>
<p><em>Stay</em>, Castiel begged. <em>If you leave, I… I don't know if I can…</em></p>
<p>Brooke sighed, swallowed, nodded. She folded her arms across her chest and waited, remaining silent.</p>
<p>"Do you want to go first?" Castiel asked Dean, trying so hard to be nice. To make Dean see, to help him understand, to make Dean love him again.</p>
<p>Around and around they went, Castiel explaining his love of humans, Dean trying to get him to focus on Metatron, on the Word of God. Castiel wanting to share this game with Dean, to share a joy with him, as he had shared joys with Brooke for the past two days; Dean growing angrier and angrier.</p>
<p>"Forget the damn game, Cass!" he finally yelled, and knocked the board to the ground.</p>
<p>Castiel stared into his lap, his Grace boiling over again, that high-pitched whine, that shaking in Brooke's blood and bones, her vision narrowing for a moment, as Castiel attempted to pull the pieces of his mind back together. He looked up at the man. "I'm sorry, Dean," he said.</p>
<p>"No," he replied. "You're <em>playing</em> sorry."</p>
<p>Castiel got out of the chair, kneeling down, and began to pick up the pieces.</p>
<p>After a minute or two, as Brooke helped him, she stopped. Something was wrong. "Meg," she said.</p>
<p>Castiel had felt it, too, but he was smiling.</p>
<p>"What?" Dean asked.</p>
<p>"It's Sam," said Castiel. "He's talking to angels."</p>
<p>"Meg," Brooke repeated, and got up off the floor, staring at Castiel, begging with her eyes. She did not love Meg, but some of Castiel's affection, adoration, had rubbed off on her. And she felt she owed the demon, for watching over her husband when she could not, when she needed to sleep, when she needed to stay away from the room or risk going insane.</p>
<p>Castiel held out his hand, and she took it, and they teleported up into his room.</p>
<p>While Castiel stood and smiled at his brothers and sisters, Brooke went over to Meg and stood in front of her, protecting her with her body.</p>
<p>"I don't need your help," Meg spat.</p>
<p>"Shut up," said Brooke.</p>
<p>One of the angels, the one in the woman's body, turned and stared at Brooke. "Angel Whore," she muttered.</p>
<p>"My wife," Castiel corrected, with a smile. He glanced down at the ring on his left hand, as if admiring it.</p>
<p>Both angels turned and stared at Castiel, one of them happy to see him, the other… not so much.</p>
<p>Castiel apologized for the massacre he had caused in Heaven, his mind searching frantically for a way to show how much he needed the approval of these two angels. All this time, all he had wanted from anyone, was their love and approval. Finally, he landed on, "Pull my finger."</p>
<p>Brooke closed her eyes, shaking her head just a little.</p>
<p>The woman stood before him, staring at him as if he'd gone insane.</p>
<p>"Uh," said Castiel, realizing that there was no light overheard. Meg had only replaced the lamp. "Uh, Meg will—will get another light and I'll—I'll blow it out again, and, well this time it'll be funny." He laughed, but it was forced, for he could see the look on everyone's faces. "And we'll all look back and laugh," he finished.</p>
<p>No one smiled.</p>
<p>Castiel stared at the angel in the woman's body, the one he had called Hester. "You're insane," she said.</p>
<p>A small part of Castiel's heart broke.</p>
<p>"Hey," said a voice, from behind them all. It was Dean. "Heads up, sunshine."</p>
<p>Brooke screamed and fell to her knees as the anti-angel sigil sent Castiel, and the other two angels, far, far away. The Grace in her body <em>screeched</em>, and it set her veins on fire, her bones creaking in agony as it all tried to escape, to tie itself to Castiel, to be sent away with him. But it could not escape her body, and she was not an angel, so the sigil could not send her anywhere. She knelt, panting, on the ground, gritting her teeth.</p>
<p>Meg yanked her roughly to her feet by the arm, which was a kind gesture by her standards.</p>
<p>Brooke glared at Dean, who quirked an eyebrow at her. She breathed heavily through her nose, staring at him, and then walked up and punched him in the face.</p>
<p>He reeled back, and then turned and stared at her, holding his jaw. "What the <em>fuck</em>?"</p>
<p>"Fuck you!" she yelled.</p>
<p>And from behind them, came the voice of the boy that Brooke hadn't even noticed. "What's happening?" he screamed, and Brooke turned to see a young teenaged boy on the verge of a mental breakdown, curled up in Castiel's bed, with the Word of God held in his arms.</p>
<p>"Who is <em>this</em>?" she asked.</p>
<p>"<em>WHAT'S HAPPENING</em>?" he screamed, again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Twenty-two</em>
</p>
<p>They had been traveling with Kevin Tran, the prophet, for two days, using his mother's car. It had been a tense two days. Dean still wasn't speaking to Brooke because she had punched him two days earlier—which was fine with her. They had never exactly gotten along, and Brooke punching him hadn't helped matters. She couldn't even explain <em>why </em>she had punched him, except that he had caused her immense pain when he'd activated the anti-angel sigil, and she knew that it had hurt Castiel just as badly, if not worse, because he was an actual angel. So, she supposed, the punch had been a reaction to pain.</p>
<p>Sam was silent, mostly to avoid pissing either Dean or Brooke. Meg was her usual bitchy self, but Brooke did not mind her after spending time around her since Castiel had been in a coma. She'd even gotten used to the demon's true face, and hardly noticed it anymore. As for Kevin… Well, Kevin was a ball of nerves, curled around himself in the back seat, doing his best to sleep off his emotions, though it didn't seem to be doing much good. Every time he woke up, he had to remember where he was all over again.</p>
<p>The second night, as they drove through the rain, he woke up again, pulling his head away from the window where he'd been resting it, and stared at Brooke like he'd never seen her before, saying, "Oh, God."</p>
<p>"What?" Meg piped up on Brooke's right side.</p>
<p>"Nothing, nothing," Kevin said. "Just… my life… my future. My girlfriend…"</p>
<p>Brooke's phone rang. She looked at the number and sighed in relief. They had given Castiel a phone in case of emergencies, and it had been in his coat pocket when he'd been blasted away two days ago. It was his phone that was calling her now. She answered it. "Castiel."</p>
<p>"Emmanuel," he said, automatically.</p>
<p>"Emmanuel," she repeated, with an amused smile.</p>
<p>"Cass?" Dean asked, from the driver's seat. "Where is he?"</p>
<p>"Shut up!" Meg yelled at him, trying to hear Castiel through the phone pressed to Brooke's ear.</p>
<p>Castiel heard Meg's shout and said, immediately, "I'll stop speaking."</p>
<p>"No, not you, Emmanuel," Brooke said, quickly. She leaned in closer to Meg so that they could both hear Castiel.</p>
<p>"I'm at a place called Perth," Castiel said.</p>
<p>"Perth?" Meg repeated.</p>
<p>"Perth?" Dean said. "As in, Australia?"</p>
<p>Brooke glared at him to shut the fuck up and plugged her other ear with a finger.</p>
<p>"There are so many dogs," Castiel said, sounding overly-excited.</p>
<p>"What dogs?" Meg asked, knowing that Castiel, who was an angel with incredible hearing, could hear her even though she wasn't speaking directly into the phone. She looked up at Dean. "He says he's surrounded by unhappy dogs."</p>
<p>"They're chasing a rabbit around and around…" Castiel continued.</p>
<p>"Ohh," said Brooke, finally understanding. "You're at a dog park. The dogs are on a racing track, right?"</p>
<p>"He's at a dog park, in Perth," Meg told the rest of the occupants in the car.</p>
<p>Castiel only repeated: "I'm surrounded by large, unhappy dogs."</p>
<p>"Yeah, they're unhappy 'cos the rabbit's fake," said Meg.</p>
<p>Brooke laughed.</p>
<p>"Listen," Meg said, leaning closer to the phone, nearly pressed up against Brooke—on purpose, maybe?—"we're on Highway 94, North of St. Cloud, Minnesota, just passing mile marker 79—</p>
<p>"There are three people in the back seat already," Brooke broke in. "Be careful when you whoosh in, okay?"</p>
<p>What happened next was strange and disorienting, even for Brooke, who thought she was relatively used to being teleported around by Castiel at this point. He came into the car for a nano-second, long enough to touch her, then teleported them both out of the car for another nano-second, long enough to re-orient both of them. When Brooke finally felt the world stop shifting and turning, she was sitting on Castiel's lap in the back seat of Kevin's mom's car. He held her around the middle with both arms.</p>
<p>Feeling a little nauseous, she said, "<em>That</em> was weird."</p>
<p>"That was fun," Castiel replied, a smile in his voice.</p>
<p>Kevin gasped loudly, and stared at Castiel, as if afraid the angel would murder him.</p>
<p>"Kevin, this is Castiel," Meg said, with a smile, leaning forward to look past the angel, and Brooke on his lap.</p>
<p>Kevin continued to stare at Castiel. "You're one of the angels?" he murmured, he voice wavering.</p>
<p>Castiel gazed at the boy, then reached across Brooke's body and touched his nose with a pointer finger, saying, "Boop."</p>
<p>Brooke couldn't help but laugh.</p>
<p>"Brooke, are you hurt?" Castiel asked, squeezing her a little.</p>
<p>"No," she said.</p>
<p>He turned and looked at Meg. "Are <em>you</em> hurt?"</p>
<p>"Shut up," Meg replied, though there was no malice in her tone. <em>Shut up</em> was her way of telling Castiel that she liked him, <em>and</em> of telling Brooke that she liked <em>her</em>.</p>
<p>"Wait, I'm confused," Kevin said. "Brooke just called you Emmanuel, but everyone else calls you Castiel. What—</p>
<p>"Only Brooke can call me Emmanuel," Castiel said, so matter-of-factly that no one responded to him. After trying, and failing, to get Dean to refer to him as Emmanuel, he had relegated that name to Brooke only. It would become the closest thing to a pet name that she had for him, in the coming years, one that no one else called him, since <em>Cass</em> was a name that they all used.</p>
<p>Castiel leaned forward and kissed her cheek.</p>
<p>Brooke blushed, amazed that Castiel could do <em>anything </em>that would cause a blush in her at this point. But he had <em>never</em> kissed her cheek before, and it was such a sweet, innocent thing to do that she wasn't sure how to respond.</p>
<p>Meg, on the other hand, had her own response ready. "Ew," she said. "Get a room."</p>
<p>"Guys," Dean cut in. "What happened back there? Who were those guys? The angels."</p>
<p>"They're from the garrison," Castiel explained. "<em>My</em> old garrison. Looks like Hester's taken over. We were assigned to watch the Earth. Your <em>wars</em> were very boring, and the sex—you know, the repetition."</p>
<p><em>You think sex is boring?</em> Brooke asked, mentally raising an eyebrow at the angel. <em>I doubt </em>that<em>.</em></p>
<p><em>This was long ago,</em> Castiel replied. <em>Long before you were born. Long before I found you and fell in love with you and decided to try out this thing that humans call sex. Of course, I found out, then, that it </em>wasn't <em>boring.</em></p>
<p>Brooke smiled.</p>
<p>"Hey," Meg said, poking Castiel's arm. "Quit your Vulcan mind-melding. I can tell when you do that, you know. Your eyes go all glassy."</p>
<p>Castiel smiled brightly. "Anyway. I was, uh… I was their captain. Isn't that strange?" he asked, and was genuinely confused as he said, as if he truly could not believe he had ever been a soldier, a captain, a warrior.</p>
<p>"Cass, why are they pissed at us <em>now</em>?" Sam demanded.</p>
<p>But Castiel was no longer paying attention. His mind had fractured again, gone off to somewhere else. "You know, those racing dogs were absolutely miserable," he confided to Brooke and Meg. "They can only think in ovals."</p>
<p>"<em>Cass</em>!" Dean snapped. "Don't make me pull this car over! Why are angels after us?"</p>
<p>Castiel flinched at the anger in Dean's tone, and that happy-go-lucky veneer slipped for a moment. Brooke felt, for just a split-second, the absolute terror and mind-numbing depression that Castiel was grappling with, every second. She squeezed one of his arms, both of which were still wrapped around her.</p>
<p>"Are you angry? Why are you angry?" Castiel said, sounding like a small child being yelled at by his father.</p>
<p>"No I—I'm…" Dean sighed. "Please, can we just stay on target?"</p>
<p>Castiel pulled the splinters of his mind back together.</p>
<p>Brooke felt the Grace in both of their bodies settle again, and realized that it had been going off again—that high-pitched whine. She hadn't even realized it had been doing that until it went away. It was almost like a dog whistle, unheard by humans, but causing great anxiety in dogs. In this case, angels… or anyone with angel Grace in their blood.</p>
<p>"There is no reason for anger," Castiel explained, calmly. "They're only following protocol. If the Word of God is revealed, a keeper of the Word will awaken, like this hot potato, right here." Cass turned and began to boop Kevin's nose over and over again, in a manner he thought would be friendly, but was really just annoying.</p>
<p>Kevin swatted his hand away. "Please stop that."</p>
<p>Castiel blinked, and resettled his arm around Brooke, who was surprisingly comfortable on the perch of Castiel's legs.</p>
<p>"Anyway," the angel said, "garrison code dictates that you take the keeper to the desert to learn the Word away from men."</p>
<p>"What kind of sense does that make?" Dean asked. "He has to <em>tell</em> us so that we can use it."</p>
<p>Castiel shrugged. "That's God and His shiny red apples."</p>
<p>"I can't live in the desert!" Kevin yelled. "I—I'm applying to Princeton!"</p>
<p>"Okay, you know what? Screw the garrison," Dean said, from the driver's seat. "We need the tablet to end Dick Roman's 'soylent <em>us</em>' crap."</p>
<p>Castiel shifted in the back seat and leaned forward, placing his chin on Brooke shoulder to be closer to Dean. "if you want the Word, you'll have duck Hester and her soldiers."</p>
<p>"Yeah, you're in our corner, right, Cass?" Sam asked.</p>
<p>"No," said Castiel, with a smile and a shake of the head. "I don't fight anymore. I watch the bees."</p>
<p>Dean sighed heavily. "Brooke, can't you talk some sense into him? He's <em>your </em>husband!"</p>
<p>Brooke smiled a secretive smile and glanced at Castiel out of the corner of her eye, turning her head to look at him sitting behind her.</p>
<p>He gazed at her quietly, kindly, lovingly.</p>
<p>"No," she told Dean. "Castiel watches the bees… and I watch Castiel."</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>They arrived at Rufus' cabin later that night and set to work drawing sigils on all the doors and windows. Dean took Kevin downstairs to start deciphering the tablet, which, apparently, was the key to stopping the Leviathans.</p>
<p>It took a long time to draw all the sigils they could think of, even with three of them doing it, and Brooke was hardly awake by the time they were done. She went over and lay down on the couch, staring lazily over at Castiel, who sat on a chair near Sam.</p>
<p>"You seem troubled," Cass said to the Winchester, fiddling with a statue of a deer he had found on one of the tables. "Of course, that's a primary aspect of your personality, so I sometimes ignore it."</p>
<p>"<em>Emmanuel</em>!" Brooke reprimanded from the couch, barely remembering in time to use the name he wished her to use.</p>
<p>He looked up at her, surprised, but didn't have time to say anything because Sam spoke up.</p>
<p>"Okay," he said. "Um… Right now I'm just wondering about you."</p>
<p>Brooke began to drift off in earnest, partly because she was exhausted and partly because she was trying to give Sam some semblance of privacy in his conversation with Castiel. She placed an arm over her eyes to block out the light from the lamp.</p>
<p>Still, small pieces of conversation broke through her half-dreams, mostly from Castiel.</p>
<p>
  <em>The burden I lifted from you… </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>… Lucifer?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>… Aftertaste. Now I more see… well, everything. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The weight of all my mistakes… I was lost, until… </em>
</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke awoke when Castiel placed a hand on her shoulder. She blinked at him groggily, his face slowly coming into focus.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," he said, gently. "Dean insisted that I wake you."</p>
<p>Brooke sat up, rubbing her eyes. "What is it?"</p>
<p>"Meg," Dean replied, from halfway across the room.</p>
<p>Brooke woke up fully and took in the scene. There stood Meg, in a devil's trap. Rage flowed through Brooke's veins, all of a sudden, out of nowhere. "Oh, <em>goddamn it</em>!" she yelled, and stood up.</p>
<p>Castiel backed quickly away from her, his eyes flicking around the room, about two seconds from teleporting away from the anger in her voice.</p>
<p>She placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "I'm not mad at you, Emmanuel. I love you." But her voice was still fierce.</p>
<p>He swallowed, looked at her, then took a deep breath and nodded, seeming to pull back into himself.</p>
<p>Nostrils flaring, Brooke stomped over to the devil's trap and shoved her foot through the chalk.</p>
<p>"Hey, hey, hey!" Dean yelled, stepping toward her, big and towering.</p>
<p>She spun to face him. "You wanna go again, Winchester?" she said, loudly. "This time I'll knock your ass out! Meg is on <em>our </em>side!"</p>
<p>Dean glared daggers at her, then tried to get around her to Meg. Brooke maneuvered so that she was blocking Dean from accessing the demon.</p>
<p>"Just give me the damn knife!" Dean yelled, stretching out his hand.</p>
<p>Meg reached her arm around Brooke's body and handed Dean the demon-killing knife. At the same time, Brooke instinctively snatched at Meg's other arm, grabbing her wrist in a movement that suggested a deep need to protect. It was a movement that Castiel had done to Brooke countless times, when he thought she might be in danger.</p>
<p>Brooke hissed through her teeth as the mental connection between herself and Meg was formed, releasing all manner of Hellish things into Brooke's mind. It was easier to take, this time, for Castiel was close, and her simultaneous connection between Meg and Castiel prevented her from succumbing to the worst that Meg's mind had to offer.</p>
<p>For just a moment, there was a strange sort of understanding between all three of them, a chain linking them all together, a mutual bond, a sense of love, and respect, and protection.</p>
<p>Then Meg yanked her wrist out of Brooke's hand. "I don't your help," she snapped.</p>
<p>"Shut up, Meg," Brooke replied, which really meant, <em>Yeah, I love you, too</em>.</p>
<p>Dean glared at Brooke, then at Meg, then walked away, giving the two of them space.</p>
<p>Brooke glanced at Castiel, urging him to come forward, but he remained leaning against the wall, beside Sam and Dean, not wanting to start an emotional war if he could avoid it. His eyes rested on Meg for a moment, as well, softening, but Meg was not looking at him.</p>
<p>"Typical," the demon snapped, folding her arms over her chest. "I save our bacon, and you're sitting here waiting by a devil's trap." She stepped out of the circle, giving Brooke a sensual smile as thanks for releasing her, then turned back to the boys, though she stayed far away from them. "Seriously, I just killed two of Crowley's men. I coulda gone the other way on that."</p>
<p>"It's true, incidentally," Castiel said, finally coming closer to Brooke and Meg. "There's other demons' blood on that blade." He glanced at the knife in Dean's hand.</p>
<p>Everyone turned and stared at Meg. She sighed. "Look, I'm simpler than you think. I've figured one thing out about this world—just one, pretty much. You find a cause and you serve it. Give yourself over, and it orders your life. Lucifer and Yellow Eyes—their mission was it for me."</p>
<p>"So, what?" Dean broke in. "We should trust you because you wanted to free Satan from Hell?"</p>
<p>"I'm talking <em>cause</em>, douchebag," Meg replied, "as in, reason to get up in the morning! Obviously, these things shift over time. We learn, we grow. Now, for me, currently, the cause is bringing down the King, and I know we'll need help to do it."</p>
<p>"Crowley ain't the problem this year," Dean argued.</p>
<p>Meg stared at him. "When are you gonna get it? Crowley's <em>always</em> the problem. He's just waiting for the right moment to strike. I know what I'm supposed to do, and it isn't screw with Sam and Dean, or lose the only angel who'd go to bat for me."</p>
<p>Castiel smiled bashfully at her.</p>
<p>"What about me?" Brooke teased.</p>
<p>"You're part of the angel," Meg replied, smirking at her.</p>
<p>Everyone stood around for a moment, then Sam and Dean looked at each other, and sighed.</p>
<p>"All right," Sam said. "You're in."</p>
<p>Meg smiled prettily at them and approached the three men—one of whom was an angel. Brooke also came closer to the rest of the group.</p>
<p>"This is good," Castiel said, with a relieved sigh. "Harmony, communication. Now our only problem is Hester."</p>
<p>"What?" Meg said.</p>
<p>"Well, here, we're hidden from the garrison," Castiel explained. "but when you killed a demon, you put out a pretty clear beacon."</p>
<p>Meg stepped even closer to Castiel, standing almost behind him. "We need better angel-proofing, <em>now</em>—</p>
<p>The door exploded off of its hinges, pulled backwards by some invisible source. No. Not invisible. Angel. Hester was here.</p>
<p>"Fuck," Brooke said, backing up and bumping into Castiel, who reached down and grabbed her hand tightly.</p>
<p>"You took the prophet from us?" Hester demanded, and her voice came from <em>behind</em> them all.</p>
<p>They all turned, as one, to stare at the angels already in the room. Hester was looking directly at Castiel. Everyone else backed up (and Meg straight-up disappeared), but Brooke stood with him, still holding his hand.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," he said, but his apology sounded like a question.</p>
<p>Hester stared at him in disgust. "You have fallen in every way imaginable."</p>
<p>"Please, Castiel," Inias spoke up, the male angel in the corner. "We have to follow the code. Help us do our work."</p>
<p>"He can't help you," Dean spoke up. "He can't help <em>anybody</em>."</p>
<p>"We don't need his help," Hester snapped. "Or his permission." She nodded at Inias, who disappeared for a moment, and reappeared with Kevin in tow. "The keeper goes to the desert tonight," Hester continued.</p>
<p>At some point, Brooke stopped listening to the yelling going on around her. None of this fighting mattered. All that mattered was keeping Castiel safe. But she had lost her angel blade long ago, somewhere in the grass at the reservoir, or maybe in her car. And she didn't even remember where her car was. Back at the lab where Castiel had gone insane?</p>
<p>She stiffened and paid attention again when Hester approached them, squeezing Castiel's hand so hard the blood stopped flowing into her fingers. She pulled Castiel behind her, but he gently extracted his hand from hers and stepped in front of Hester, who was going after Dean. "Please," he said. "They're the ones we were put here to protect."</p>
<p>Hester shook her head at him. "No, Castiel," she said—and backhanded him across the face. He stumbled backwards, tripping hand falling hard.</p>
<p>The Grace in Brooke's blood came boiling to the surface and she went blind as it overtook her. A loud, high-pitched whine filled her ears, and she grabbed blindly at Hester, wanting to choke the life from her. She managed to get her hands around the angel's throat, but was torn away by unseen hands, the two other angels in the room pulling her off their superior. She screamed wordlessly, on the edge of expending Castiel's Grace, on the edge of exploding.</p>
<p><em>Stop</em>, Castiel said, his voice so small in her mind compared to her rage. But it was enough to keep her from the edge. Her vision came back just in time to see Hester's hand coming for her face, too. Her head snapped to the side and she tasted blood in her mouth.</p>
<p>Castiel rose from the ground and pulled at Hester's arm, only to be slapped down again. Hester began to punch Castiel in the face over and over again, screaming about madness, and free will. Suddenly she had an angel blade in her hand. One of the angels who had been holding Brooke rushed forward to stop her from murdering Castiel.</p>
<p>Brooke screamed in rage all over again and bowled into the woman, going for the blade. They struggled—Hester was strong—but Brooke managed to wrest the blade from her hand. She pulled her arm back to plunge it into the bitch's chest, but suddenly there was already a blade sticking through it. Hester exploded in light, screaming, and fell over, dead. There stood Meg, holding an angel blade in her hand.</p>
<p>Brooke sucked in breath after breath, staring at Meg. Castiel, on his knees, his face covered in blood, also stared at the demon.</p>
<p>"What?" Meg said. "<em>Someone</em> had to do it." She smiled at Brooke. "Sorry, sweetheart. Not fast enough."</p>
<p>Without thinking about what she was doing, Brooke dropped the angel blade to the floor and grabbed Meg's face in her hands, kissing her. It was a strange, terrifying, exhilarating feeling to kiss a demon. Meg inhaled sharply at the kiss, but did not pull away.</p>
<p>Brooke ended the kiss and dropped her hands away from Meg's face, wondering what the fuck had just come over her. She glanced up at the demon to see that Meg was smiling at her.</p>
<p>"Well," said Meg, "I didn't think it would be <em>you</em>. I thought you <em>hated</em> me."</p>
<p>"I never said I hated you," Brooke muttered.</p>
<p>"Shut up," said Meg.</p>
<p>A horrifying thought entered Brooke's mind. "Oh my God," she said, looking at Castiel. "You—I didn't mean—I…" Close to tears, she asked, "You're not angry at me, are you?"</p>
<p>Castiel stared up at her, and slowly shook his head, <em>no</em>.</p>
<p>Brooke had kissed Meg on a spur-of-the-moment whim, thankful that the demon had just stabbed the angel that had been about to murder Castiel. It had been a thank-you more than anything else, fueled, in part, by the strange, three-way connection that they had all shared for a few moments earlier that night, when Brooke had grabbed Meg's wrist as a gesture of protection.</p>
<p>Castiel knew all that went on in Brooke's mind, in her heart, and Brooke knew the same of him. Thus, he was not angry at a thankful kiss shared between two women—one human, one demon—who both shared feelings for him. Meg's feelings for Castiel did not run nearly as deeply as Brooke's, but they were there, all the same.</p>
<p>Castiel smiled up at both of them, still down on his knees, his nose leaking blood, and grabbed Brooke's hand, and Meg's hand, and held them both. Through him, the mental connection between Meg and Brooke reopened, and they glanced at each other, before looking back down at him. And in his eyes was only love and understanding and gratefulness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Twenty-three</em>
</p>
<p>Kevin Tran had been taken back home, after delivering the full translation of the tablet to Sam and Dean. The garrison had promised to watch over him from there. Meg had vanished, going somewhere for a while to lay low until she had a clearer plan of attack on Crowley.</p>
<p>The plan to take down Dick Roman and the rest of the Leviathans meant building a weapon of some kind, and the weapon included the blood of a fallen angel, among other ingredients. Castiel happily handed over a vial of his own blood. "Always happy to bleed for the Winchesters," he said, ducking his head, as if he were bashful. Brooke stood beside him, as always.</p>
<p>Dean looked down at the vial of angel blood in his hand, and then looked up at the two of them.</p>
<p>Before he could say anything, Brooke said, in a rush, "I'm sorry I punched you."</p>
<p>Beside her, Castiel's Grace went up by an octave or two, in worry. "You punched Dean?"</p>
<p>Dean blinked at Brooke in surprise, ignoring Cass. "Don't worry about it," he replied. "Uh, I'm sorry I didn't give you some kinda heads-up about the anti-angel sigil. But I couldn't let anyone know, or they might've retaliated."</p>
<p>Brooke nodded. "Of course," she said.</p>
<p>"You punched Dean?" Castiel repeated, and though his voice remained that deep gravelly tone, she had the distinct image in her head of a scared child's voice raising an octave with each word.</p>
<p>"Don't worry about it," Dean repeated, reaching over the table they were huddled around and gripping the angel's shoulder in a reassuring manner.</p>
<p>Castiel stared at Dean, then turned his head and stared at Brooke. Then he seemed to give up on caring about the issue, and smiled.</p>
<p>"So," said Dean, "what are you two gonna do now?"</p>
<p>Castiel smiled again, though this one was more genuine. He gazed at Brooke, and there was a tiny spark of his old self somewhere in his eyes. "We don't know," he said, still looking at her. He held out his hand to her, and she took it. Then, he looked at Dean, askance, still smiling, and asked, "Isn't that wonderful?"</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke loved every moment of every day she spent with Castiel for the next two weeks or so. Having not understood, before, his incessant need to teleport her all around the world, to all these places, she consciously chose to enjoy her time with him, then. They walked on beaches in their bare feet, early in the morning when no one was out in the water yet, besides the hardcore surfers. They weaved their way through quiet woodlands following rivers and streams, point out fish they found, darting through the water. Once, he took her to a salt flat, simply to stare around at the sheer, vast emptiness of it.</p>
<p>While traveling, he would sustain her as much as he could with his own energy, but eventually, she would need to eat and sleep. They avoided America as much as possible, what with its infestation of Leviathans and the poisoning of all the packaged food. Brooke had no money or credit cards that would work anywhere else, so Castiel had to come to terms with the idea of stealing food. Before now, this would not have been a problem for him, but he considered stealing to be one step away from violence, and it took him a while to build up the nerve.</p>
<p>Finding Brooke somewhere to sleep was also a challenge, and usually involved Castiel pressing two fingers to the forehead of whoever was the manager of the hotel they were in and… jogging his memory. <em>Ah</em>, the manager would suddenly cry, <em>your room key! Of course!</em></p>
<p>Castiel felt guilty about this, but the alternative was returning to America, to somewhere where Brooke's stolen credit cards would work, and Castiel did not want to be anywhere near America. The closer he was to America, the closer to the Leviathans, and Sam and Dean, and the closer to the possibility of having to <em>fight</em> something.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Late one night, in a hotel room somewhere (Brooke had long ago lost track of where they ever were), she lay in the bed with Castiel as rain lashed at the windows. Thunder occasionally rolled past, overhead. Brooke turned in the bed to face her husband, who was laying, fully clothed (shoes off) on top of the covers. "You're not making it rain, are you?" she teased, thinking absentmindedly of Castiel's body, his touch. She had long come to associate rain with sex, since, for him, one correlated with the other.</p>
<p>"No, I'm not making it rain," he said, his voice sounding strained.</p>
<p>She heard the discomfort in his voice, but pushed him, anyway, just wanting to see how he would react. "Do you <em>want</em> to make it rain?" she asked, her voice a sensual purr.</p>
<p>He would not look at her. "I know what you're asking," he said, "but I… I can't—I…."</p>
<p>She touched him lightly on the arm. "It's okay, Emmanuel," she murmured. She had been calling him by that name, almost exclusively, for the past week, as it seemed to calm him. She toyed with her wedding ring, which she never took off, rolling it around and around her finger. "I was only thinking that this all feels strangely like a… like a honeymoon."</p>
<p>He smiled suddenly; she could see him, perfectly, in the dark, his skin and clothes lit up from the inside by a holy glow. He turned to face her, propping himself up on one elbow, putting his head in his hand. "I'm glad you see it that way."</p>
<p>"It's still a little strange," she confessed. "The idea that we're… married. Even if we're really <em>not</em>. Not in any legally binding way."</p>
<p>Castiel blinked at her, still smiling.</p>
<p>Brooke went silent for a time, thinking back to those six months in which she had been Ruth and Castiel had been Emmanuel, a healer. "We should tell Daphne we're safe," she mused. "I feel horrible for it, but I've barely thought of her since you fell into a coma. We should… contact her, somehow. Although…"</p>
<p>"Contacting her could draw <em>bad things</em> to her," Castiel said, his voice low, barely above a whisper. He sounded like a child, confessing to his mother his fear of the monster in his closet.</p>
<p>Brooke was surprised he even had a mind sound enough to say it aloud. "Yes," she agreed. "Maybe it's better if we wait."</p>
<p>Silence reigned for some time, and during that silence, Brooke's mind went to a darker place, a place she'd been trying to keep at bay since Castiel had woken up from his coma. She missed him, the <em>normal</em> him, the one untouched by Sam's insanity, the one who was not so terrified of conflict… the one who could hold her, touch her. She said none of this aloud, knowing full well that Castiel could hear every thought. She curled into herself in the bed, avoiding his eyes.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," Castiel whispered into the darkness.</p>
<p>"You don't need to apologize to me," Brooke replied, immediately. "I'm just… being a little self-pitying. Missing how things used to be. I'll get over it."</p>
<p>In their connected minds, she could feel him fracturing again, but trying his best to hold himself together, to become a little bit more like the old Castiel, the one who didn't crack under pressure, the one capable of pulling Brooke into his arms as easily as spreading his wings. Yet the harder he tried, the more his mind splintered, the more erratic his thoughts became, the more he was forced to remember all the bad that he brought into the world.</p>
<p>"Shhh…" Brooke said, placing a hand on his arm again. "Shhh…"</p>
<p>Down the rain poured, and Brooke slowly fell into sleep.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>The next morning she awoke to find that the bed was empty beside her. She sat up, wondering for a brief moment, if Castiel had, perhaps, run away in the night. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and then gazed around in shock and wonder at the sight before her. The room was full of flowers. Flowers everywhere. All different types. Petals lay spread across the bed. Vases of flowers stood on both nightstands. Bunches of flowers lay all across the floor. There were hundreds of them.</p>
<p>Brooke whispered, "Oh," and covered her mouth with her hands.</p>
<p>And there, on the ground, sitting cross-legged, was Castiel, smiling calmly up at her, his hands in his lap, the wedding band on his finger winking in the light of morning.</p>
<p>"How long…?" Brooke began, but was so overwhelmed that she could not even finish the question.</p>
<p>"Oh, all night," said Castiel, cheerily. "I went all over the world, being sure to pick only a few flowers from any one bush or tree. It's important to preserve the plant, of course."</p>
<p>"Of course," she repeated, staring around the room with a watery smile. "Castiel," she murmured, forgetting to call him Emmanuel, but he did not seem to mind it that time. She shook her head in awe. "It's beautiful."</p>
<p>Castiel smiled wider, his eyes lighting up in joy. "I know you told me once that you didn't really like flowers. You said you preferred chocolate, but… I thought, maybe, I could show you how beautiful flowers could really be."</p>
<p>Brooke gazed down at Castiel for a moment, at a loss for words. Then she got slowly out of bed and down on the floor with him. He seemed steadier than he had last night, able to meet her gaze without looking away again a moment later; able to focus on one thing for more than a few seconds. He still seemed a little shy, smiling at her bashfully, but he opened his arms to her as she came toward him on her hands at knees. She crawled into his lap and they held one another for a long time.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Perhaps the strangest thing to occur on their made-up honeymoon happened near the end of the two weeks they spent by themselves, just before the angel began to grow concerned at the lack of communication between himself and the garrison meant to be watching over Kevin.</p>
<p>Walking through a pasture somewhere under a noonday sun, Castiel paused and closed his eyes, seeming to be listening for something.</p>
<p>"What is it?" Brooke asked.</p>
<p>Castiel did not reply, but tilted his head to the side, his eyes still closed. Suddenly, he vanished, and Brooke felt the wind on her face from his wings.</p>
<p><em>Cass?</em> she called, in her mind, feeling a little worried at his disappearance. Still, she could feel him at the edges of her mind, which meant he was somewhere relatively close by.</p>
<p>He returned a minute later, and Brooke screamed.</p>
<p>He was naked, and he was <em>covered in bees</em>. <em>BEES</em>.</p>
<p>Castiel blinked manically for a moment, staring at Brooke in apparent surprise. <em>They won't hurt you</em>, he said to her, as the bees crawled around on his bare flesh, and buzzed around his face.</p>
<p>Brooke, however, was past the point of being talked to. She backed up so fast that she tripped on some rock or root behind her and fell, catching herself a little by the throwing her arms out behind herself. All she could see were the bees, and the sound of their buzzing filled her brain like hypnosis. There she was, a Hunter, someone who killed monsters for a living, and the sight of hundreds of bees scared her more than any ghost or vampire ever had.</p>
<p>All she could think was that they might all decide, at the same time, to sting her. And then she would die, horribly, her throat closing up, her body swelling like a balloon. More like a thousand balloons, all underneath her skin. She was not allergic to bees, but she knew that if <em>anyone</em> was stung enough times, they would die.</p>
<p>Castiel stared down at her, on the ground, confusion and a little hurt in his eyes. He took a step toward her, intending to help her stand, but she let out another scream, this one squeakier than the last and shook her head, hard. He stopped, and took a few steps away from her, repeating again, <em>They won't hurt you.</em></p>
<p>"I don't give a <em>fuck</em>!" she yelled, paranoia slowly rising in her. "Get them away from me!"</p>
<p>He looked at her sadly, for a moment, then tilted his head, as if listening again. "Dean is calling me," he said, and vanished.</p>
<p>Castiel did not return for some time, perhaps half an hour. Brooke took the time away from him to sit on the ground and collect herself, trying to calm her furiously beating heart. She felt bad for turning him away like that, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She had never been around so many bees at once before, and she didn't think there could have been any way to prepare her for Castiel to come to her, completely naked, and completely covered in bees. It had been such a shock that it was like her brain had shut down.</p>
<p>Slowly, her heart returned to normal, and by the time Castiel returned to her, she was sitting calmly in the grass, her chin resting on her arms, resting on her knees. She looked up at him with only her eyes, and laughed.</p>
<p>He was still naked, but this time he was covered from head to toe in butterflies.</p>
<p>"I thought you might like these better," he said. "No stingers."</p>
<p>She smiled lovingly up at him, grateful that he had taken her wants and fears into consideration, even with his mind as scattered as it was. "What did Dean want?" she asked.</p>
<p>"I don't know," Castiel said. "He told me to go away the second I showed up. I guess he didn't like the bees, either." He frowned. "You know you can't live without bees, and humans are killing them all."</p>
<p>"I like bees just fine," Brooke said, standing up, her eyes flitting here and there around Castiel's body as the butterflies floated around him, landing on his head and shoulders to fan their wings; crawling up and down his stomach and legs and arms. She continued, "I just don't want a whole <em>bunch</em> of bees all in my face at the same time."</p>
<p>Castiel smiled and slowly held his arms out to the sides, allowing the butterflies to roost there, as well. Brooke slowly stepped closer to the angel, and some of the butterflies began to flit off of him and onto her, landing on her head. She laughed.</p>
<p>And Castiel tilted his head back, laughing with her, his arms spread wide, wings unfurled in all their glory; and angelic light poured out of his body like the sun, filling the valley with that warm glow that only Brooke could see.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the penultimate chapter to "Kept"! Look out for the third book in this series, "Held," soon.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Twenty-four</em>
</p>
<p>The joy of those two weeks did not last forever. Castiel began to worry the longer he went without hearing word from his old garrison, the ones who were meant to be watching over Kevin Tran. The worry started slowly. After about three days into their "honeymoon," Castiel said, "I haven't heard from the garrison," and a part of his mind fractured with the worry.</p>
<p>Brooke laid a hand on his arm to steady him, and his wandering eyes found her face, and settled there. He calmed, but kept that thought in the back of his mind.</p>
<p>A week into their honeymoon, he said, again, "I haven't heard from the garrison."</p>
<p>And this time, Brooke also worried. "Maybe we should—</p>
<p>"I can't," he interrupted her, and, again, his eyes wandered, flicking here and there and everywhere, and his mind splintered.</p>
<p>Brooke sighed. "All right," she said, quietly.</p>
<p>Finally, though, when two weeks were almost up, Castiel's vague worry turned to genuine concern, and fear. "I—I still haven't heard from the garrison," he said, and his voice was higher than usual, for this time he knew he could not simply ignore the deafening silence. He would have to go to the house of Kevin Tran, and look.</p>
<p>When they arrived, there were two bodies on the floor in the kitchen. Angels.</p>
<p>Castiel's mind shattered at the sight of them, and he wandered about the house, looking for Kevin, whom he knew was not there. Slowly, he grew more and more panicked. Now that he had confirmed what he had already known, he knew he would have to <em>do something </em>about it. Finally, he returned to the kitchen, where Brooke was standing and waiting for him. He began to rock back and forth on his feet, refusing to meet her eyes. "I don't want to fight," he said.</p>
<p>"You don't have to fight," she began—</p>
<p>But he repeated, louder, "I don't want to fight! I can't fight." He began to breathe erratically, looking very human, very vulnerable. "The last time I fought, I… I destroyed… so many…" He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.</p>
<p>Brooke went right up to him and grabbed his face in both of her hands, digging her fingers in when he tried to pull away. "Emmanuel," she said.</p>
<p>He shook his head. "It doesn't work," he said, his voice frantic. "I know what I am now. That name…"</p>
<p>"<em>Emmanuel</em>," she repeated, ignoring the frenzy in his mind. "Stop. Just stop."</p>
<p>He continued shaking his head, as memories flared to life in his mind, memories of awful destruction. Hundreds of angels dead all around him. The blood of humans on his hands.</p>
<p>Brooke took a deep breath and said, very loudly, "I am your wife, and you will <em>listen to me</em>!"</p>
<p>Castiel flinched at the sound of her voice, but his mind stilled, finally. He stared at her, his blue eyes very wide.</p>
<p>"No one is saying you have to fight anything," Brooke said, quickly, afraid that his mind would start up again if she didn't speak her piece. "Why don't we tell Sam and Dean that Kevin is missing, and they can take care of it."</p>
<p>"Sam and Dean," he repeated, and his voice had gone high again. "No. No, they won't understand. They'll want me to go with them. To look for Kevin."</p>
<p>"They can't make you go anywhere," Brooke argued. "If they try, you can just teleport away."</p>
<p>But Castiel was still shaking his head. He pressed his hands over top of hers, on his face. "No," he repeated. "Not Sam and Dean."</p>
<p>Brooke was losing her patience. "But we have to <em>tell someone</em> that Kevin is <em>missing</em>."</p>
<p>"Meg," said Castiel, quickly. "We can tell Meg."</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>Suddenly, he was smiling, but it was not a genuine smile. It was a fake one, one that spread too far on his face. "I know where she is. I—<em>we</em>—can tell <em>her</em> about Kevin, and… and she can tell Sam and Dean. That way I don't have to talk to them."</p>
<p>Brooke shook her head. "I don't think Meg will appreciate…" she began, but she blinked, and Castiel had already teleported them away. She sighed, heavily, knowing that there was no way to get through to the angel at this point.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke sat in the car with Castiel when Meg went into Rufus' cabin to go talk to Sam and Dean. They had not driven here, but the second they had arrived, Castiel had gotten into the car out front and turned on the radio. He had refused to go inside.</p>
<p>Don McLean's <em>American Pie</em> came on the radio, and Brooke shook her head and chuckled at the irony of how well that song fit Castiel's current mood. He was somewhere between maniacally happy, and extremely depressed, and being in his head was fucking Brooke up, big time.</p>
<p>"Hey there," said Dean, breaking Brooke out of her thoughts. She gave him a silent head-nod and Castiel lifted his hand in greeting.</p>
<p>Dean looked like he was about to say more, and then seemed to steel himself, raising himself above the window of the car for a moment so that Brooke could only see his chest. When he lowered his face back into the window, he gave her A Look, and she gave one right back. Silently, they communicated, Dean asking her a question and Brooke responding with raised eyebrows and a shake of the head. Dean sighed and seemed to resign himself to whatever strange conversation he was about to have with his angel best friend.</p>
<p>"So, Cass," Dean began, trying for a smile, "What's uh… what's the word?"</p>
<p>"Well, Dean, I've been thinking… Monkeys are so… clever."</p>
<p>Brooke closed her eyes and put her face in her hands.</p>
<p>"And they're sensible," the angel continued, not seeming to have noticed anything, "in that they leave the skin <em>on</em> the bananas that they eat. Is it really necessary to test cosmetics on them? I mean, how important is lipstick to you, Dean?"</p>
<p>Inside her hands, Brooke tried not to burst out laughing at such a ridiculous question. She couldn't even <em>imagine</em> Dean with lipstick on. She peeked through her fingers at Dean, who glanced at her with a <em>What the fuck </em>look on his face, and it made her snort with laughter.</p>
<p>"Not very," Dean told Castiel. "You wanna come inside and, uh, tell us what's going on?"</p>
<p>Castiel glanced between Dean and Brooke for a moment, and Brooke felt him begin to fracture again.</p>
<p>Brooke rolled her eyes up to the ceiling of the car and thought to him, <em>If you don't hold your shit together long enough to just </em>tell them what's happening<em>, I swear I will divorce you.</em> <em>Can you just… please?</em></p>
<p>She hated herself for thinking this way—and wondered if, maybe, being inside Meg's head for even a few seconds had somehow rubbed off on her. Still, this wasn't the first time she had lost her patience with Castiel. But <em>now</em> was not the best time to be treating him this way. He was like a small child, and she was afraid speaking this way to him might damage his psyche.</p>
<p>Even so, that threat, meaningless as it was—and he knew it—seemed to steady him enough to pull him from the car and drag his feet through the door of the cabin. Brooke followed along behind, as always, and Dean followed them both. As the angel walked through the door, he glanced, with a smile, at Meg, and said, "Now, you understand I don't participate in aggressive activity." He was speaking quickly and with high energy, something Brooke had had to get used to in those two weeks alone with him.</p>
<p>Castiel shuffled through the cabin, over to the table, where a large human bone was lying in a bowl. One of the ingredients for the weapon that would destroy the Leviathans. He picked up the bone and <em>smelled it</em>.</p>
<p>Brooke stared at him.</p>
<p>He smiled. "Mm. Sister Mary Constant. Good choice."</p>
<p>Dean glanced at Brooke again, then settled his eyes on the angel. "Why'd you go to Meg, Cass?"</p>
<p>"When I left," Castiel began, "I wanted to observe the flowers—and fruit. Flowers come first, obviously." That high, manic energy seemed to dissipate as he looked up at Dean. His shoulders slumped as he said, "But I heard nothing from them."</p>
<p>Brooke knew he meant he had heard nothing from the <em>garrison</em>, but no one else could piece that together from the way he was speaking. "He means the garrison," she spoke up. "He heard nothing from the garrison. The ones who were supposed to protect Kevin."</p>
<p>Everyone looked at her as she spoke, but she kept her eyes on Castiel, who was staring at her with fear written all over his face.</p>
<p><em>Keep it together</em>, she warned.</p>
<p>He pulled himself inward.</p>
<p>"What happened to the garrison?" Sam asked.</p>
<p>"Well, finally, the silence was deafening," said Castiel, with a shrug. "So, I went to look… to the home of the prophet." He paused, glancing at Sam and Dean, and for once his face was reasonably serious. Calm. "You know, Leviathan can <em>kill</em> angels. There's a reason why Father locked them in Purgatory." He turned away from them all, saying, over his shoulder, "They're the piranha that would eat the whole aquarium." He faced the group again, sadness in his blue eyes. "They're gone. The entire garrison—dead. If there's anyone left at all, they're in hiding."</p>
<p>Dean held up a finger, coming towards Castiel. "Uh, I'm sorry. If the angels are dead, where's Kevin?"</p>
<p>Castiel, sensing that he was about to be asked to participate in something aggressive, deflected, his mind fracturing again. "I could steal them from their cages, the monkeys… But where would I put them all?"</p>
<p>"Hey!" Dean yelled, and clapped his hands together. "Focus! Is Kevin <em>alive</em>?"</p>
<p>"<em>I don't want to fight</em>!" Castiel said, his voice louder than it had been in weeks. He ducked his head down, his eyes flitting everywhere.</p>
<p>Dean stared at him with an unreadable expression as Brooke went over to Castiel. As annoyed as she had been in the car, it hurt her to see him like this, so close, <em>constantly</em>, to a complete breakdown. Even now, after weeks of being awake, horrible, awful thoughts still lurked in the back of his mind, reminding him of all the bad things he had done.</p>
<p>Brooke slowly, gently, pressed a hand to his cheek, trying to calm him. He almost moved away from her, almost flinched, but their bond was strong, and instead, he bent down and pressed his forehead against hers, breathing her in, using her presence to ground him. He began to pick up the pieces of his mind again and try to fit them all back together.</p>
<p>Behind Brooke, Dean said, "No, I'm not… We're worried." His voice was calmer now.</p>
<p>Castiel turned to face Dean again, but pulled Brooke to him at the same time, holding her against him, as if he would crumple to the ground otherwise, suddenly unable to support his own weight. She felt his hands on her back, in her hair, as if <em>he</em> were trying to soothe <em>her</em>. Really, though, the repetitive motion of rubbing her back, running his fingers through her hair, was a comfort to him. It was something familiar, the same way that turning her wedding ring around and around her finger had become familiar to <em>her</em>.</p>
<p>"They took him," Castiel said, his voice quieter now. "He's alive." He sighed, and stepped away from Brooke, smiling down at her, running a thumb along her jaw for just a moment in a loving gesture. "I felt such responsibility," he said to Dean, "but it's in your hands now. I feel much better."</p>
<p>"Wait," said Dean. "Hold on a freakin' minute—</p>
<p>But whatever he'd been about to say was interrupted by Meg, who had been standing by, silently watching, for the past few minutes. "Guys," she said, "What's all that?"</p>
<p>Brooke turned to look at her and saw her motioning to a small bowl on a separate table. Inside the bowl were ingredients for some kind of spell, and a book of matches.</p>
<p>"We called Crowley," Sam said.</p>
<p>Meg stared at him, her eyebrows raising. "You <em>what</em>?"</p>
<p>"Don't worry, he never showed," Dean said.</p>
<p>Meg was still high-strung. "What you mean never—</p>
<p>"Do you see him anywhere?" Dean asked. "He stood us up."</p>
<p>"Well," said Meg, with a mirthless smile. She looked like her skin was crawling. "I'm sorry about that, but I'm outie. He could still show—</p>
<p>"Show up at any time," said Crowley's voice. "Hello, boys."</p>
<p>Brooke spun and stared at the demon.</p>
<p>"Sorry I'm late," said Crowley. "This <em>is</em> an embarrassment of riches."</p>
<p>Instinctively, immediately, Brooke moved herself in front of Meg. Castiel was her first priority, of course, but Meg seemed much more afraid of the demon than Castiel did, and Brooke reacted to that fear by shielding her. She knew that blocking Crowley's view of Meg wouldn't actually <em>do</em> much, but it was the only think she could think of.</p>
<p>Crowley laid eyes on Brooke, then glanced over her shoulder at Meg, who was all bristles and nerves behind her. "<em>Stay</em>, won't you? There's really nowhere to run."</p>
<p>Meg took off, heading for the door. Brooke followed her, but Crowley appeared suddenly in front of the door.</p>
<p>"Don't even think of smoking out, pussycat," he warned. "I've got eyes all over the place."</p>
<p>Castiel came down the stairs, towards the two demons and Brooke. His voice was harder and angrier than Brooke had heard in a long time. "Leave her be," he growled, and Brooke knew, feeling it between them, that Castiel was talking about them both. Her, and Meg.</p>
<p>Crowley glanced up from Meg and looked at the angel. "Castiel," he said, moving toward him. "When last we spoke, you—well—enslaved me. I'm confused. Why aren't you dead?"</p>
<p>Castiel side-eyed him. "I… don't know."</p>
<p>"Well, do you <em>want</em> to be?" Crowley asked, his voice growing louder and angrier. "'Cos I can <em>help</em> with that."</p>
<p>"All right, enough," Dean broke in.</p>
<p>"It's enough when I say," Crowley replied. "I came here to <em>help</em> you. I find out you've been lying to me, harboring an angel, and not just <em>any</em> angel—the <em>one</em> angel I <em>most </em>want to crush between my teeth."</p>
<p>"Oh, so you can crush angels now, huh?" Meg asked, still standing by the door with Brooke.</p>
<p>They all went back and forth for a time, the tension growing in the room the longer Crowley was there. It didn't take long for the demon discover that Castiel was insane, since the angel offered him a ziplock bag full of honey as a peace offering a few minutes in. Crowley, in the end, didn't harm any of them, and gave them a vial of what he <em>claimed</em> was his own blood—the last ingredient they needed in the fight against Dick Roman. Still, there was a threat in his words, a promise to return for Meg, and for Castiel, to kill them both one day. Just not that day. And right before he left, he glanced at Brooke, holding her gaze for just a moment, and in his eyes was the same silent promise to come back… and kill her.</p>
<p>Brooke glared back at him, unafraid. and felt the Grace in her body roil to the surface in response to that silent threat.</p>
<p>Crowley smirked, threw his vial of blood at Sam, and vanished.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Twenty-five</em>
</p>
<p>Brooke stayed with Castiel in the cabin while Sam and Dean went out to destroy Dick Roman. Meg stayed behind, as well, watching the angel while Brooke napped on the couch. She had decided to get sleep while she could, since she was unsure how long all of this would take, or whether it would even go the way it was supposed to.</p>
<p>And, as it turned out, it did <em>not</em> go the way it was supposed to. Sam and Dean returned much sooner than expected, and they were pissed off and scared. Bobby, whose ghost was still hanging around, had gone vengeful, and had possessed a poor maid and dragged her out of the motel room where he had been stuck, and used her to go after Dick Roman. When Sam and Dean showed up, Sam remembered the maid's face, and knew that it had to be Bobby.</p>
<p>They'd been so close, but Bobby had attacked Sam, and then seemed to realize what he was doing, and had vanished, leaving the poor maid in a crumpled heap on the ground. Sam and Dean had had to abort the mission to kill Dick Roman so that they could take the woman to a hospital.</p>
<p>Brooke sat on the couch and muttered, "Goddamn it, Bobby…"</p>
<p>Castiel busied himself making food for Sam and Dean. He'd been cleaning, earlier, trying to make himself useful since he wasn't going to go with them to kill the Leviathans.</p>
<p>"Tell me, again, why you turned tail for some maid?" Meg asked, leaning against a post with a beer in her hand. "You were <em>right there</em>."</p>
<p>"Shut up, Meg," Dean replied.</p>
<p>"Because Dick made more Dicks," Sam explained. "He must've kept a chunk of the original somewhere. They'd all have to touch it." He went on to explain how they had seen multiple Dick Romans on all the security cameras at the place where Roman was supposed to be. He'd copied himself, so that it would be much harder to kill him; how was one supposed to tell who the original was?</p>
<p>As Brooke listened to Sam's explanation, she began to sense a shift in Castiel's Grace; it rose in pitch and frequency, which it only did when he was upset or injured. She looked past Sam, at her angel, who was shuffling about the kitchen looking busy, despite having nothing to do. <em>Cass</em>? she asked, but he did not respond to her.</p>
<p>"Hey, shifty, what's your problem?" Dean asked, apparently having picked up Castiel's odd behavior, too.</p>
<p>Castiel picked up a plate that was already dry and began to dry it again. "Do we need a cat?" he asked. "Doesn't this place feel one species short?" He glanced at Brooke, then looked away again, immediately, unable to hold her gaze.</p>
<p>"You got anything to say on the topic of Dicks?" Dean asked, ignoring his question about cats.</p>
<p>Brooke tried to hold her face together at his Dick question. Phrasing.</p>
<p>"Crowley was pretty sure that you could help," Dean continued.</p>
<p>"I <em>can't</em> help," Castiel snapped. "You understand? I <em>can't</em>."</p>
<p>Brooke stared at him. She hadn't heard that tone from his mouth in… a year? Not since before he'd become "God."</p>
<p>Now, though, his voice wavered, like he was on the edge of tears. "I destroyed… everything, and I will destroy everything <em>again</em>. Can we please just leave it at that?" He gazed at the floor.</p>
<p>Brooke stood up slowly, amazed that he had finally admitted, aloud, to anyone but her, what was truly wrong with him. All that fear bubbling up underneath his cheery exterior. The pain he had been trying and failing to hide…</p>
<p>But Dean stood up, too, and he was not amazed like she was. "No," he said. "No we can't."</p>
<p>"Dean," Sam said, but was cut off immediately.</p>
<p>"We <em>can't</em> leave it!" Dean snapped. He stared at Castiel. "<em>You</em> let these fucking things in," he said, his voice low. "So you don't get to make a sandwich. You don't get a damned <em>cat</em>! Nobody cares that you're broken, Cass. Clean up your mess!"</p>
<p>Brooke started to come forward, to beat the shit out of Dean—she was not exactly objective when it came to her angel—but Castiel had come toward Dean, as well. "You know," he said, staring at Dean with serious eyes, "we should play Twister."</p>
<p>Brooke could not maintain her anger at Dean after Castiel had said something like that. She sighed and sat back down on the couch. When he disappeared without her, however, she sat up straighter, staring around the room in shock, as if he were still there and had simply turned invisible. "Cass?" she whispered, terrified that he had gone off somewhere without her. He had never gone off <em>without her</em>, not in a long time.</p>
<p>The others spoke around her, about the reason that Castiel was needed in the fight against Dick Roman (all the Leviathans had inhabited his body, so he'd be able to pick out the real one from the copies) but Brooke barely heard them. "<em>Cass</em>?" she repeated, louder, trembling in panic. She realized, then, just how co-dependent she had come to be with Castiel, how much she <em>needed</em> to be near him, crazy or not. How much she <em>craved</em> his presence, his mind connected to hers.</p>
<p>He reappeared, on the floor… on a Twister pad… playing himself.</p>
<p>Brooke nearly collapsed in relief. She went over to him, weak-kneed, and sat cross-legged on the floor before him. "Castiel," she whispered.</p>
<p>He glanced up at her.</p>
<p>"I love you."</p>
<p>A smile lit up his whole face, his blue eyes shining in delight. "I love you, too," he said, brightly.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Later that night, Brooke sat around with Sam and Dean, trying to help them with their Dick Roman situation, since Cass was still out of commission. Dean sat in front of a laptop screen, staring at footage of Dick Roman; he'd been doing that for half an hour, and they weren't getting anywhere.</p>
<p>"There's no real point in looking for a tell," he said. "They all downloaded Dick's brain. They've all got the same tells."</p>
<p>"All right," said Sam, pacing back and forth. "Then I think the question is, 'What would the real Dick be doing?'"</p>
<p>"Is that the best you can do?" said a voice that Brooke had not heard in a long time. She spun around from looking over Dean's shoulder at the laptop screen and stared at ghost of Bobby Singer, who now stood in the room with them.</p>
<p>"Bobby," Brooke said, her voice cracking on his name. She brought her hands up to her mouth.</p>
<p>He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, smiling. "Hey, girl," he said, but his eyes were sad.</p>
<p>Slowly, she reached out and touched his shoulder, half-expecting her fingers to go right through him. He was solid, but touching him induced a bone-deep chill in her body, and she pulled her fingers away. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she sniffed and held them at bay, forcing a smile onto her face.</p>
<p>"Bobby," Sam murmured. "We didn't know if you—</p>
<p>"Well, you should've," Bobby cut in. "You got the flask." He glanced down at Dean, shaking his head. "Dumb. You should have burned it right off."</p>
<p>Everyone stared at the ghost.</p>
<p>"Bobby," Dean began, but he was cut off.</p>
<p>"I'm still jonesing to go back," Bobby admitted, his voice a low growl. "Grab some poor bastard, kamikaze 'im, goin' after Dick." He rubbed at his arm, seeming to shiver. "It's <em>bad</em>." He stopped talking, noticing the footage of Dick Roman still playing on Dean's laptop. The laptop lid suddenly closed, and Bobby breathed heavily.</p>
<p>Dean stood up.</p>
<p>"Let's be real," Bobby said. "I damn near killed you. <em>And</em> that woman." The maid.</p>
<p>"It wasn't your fault, Bobby—not really," Sam said.</p>
<p>"Right," said Bobby, nodding. "That's just what ghosts turn into."</p>
<p>Brooke, standing there, staring at Bobby, felt her heart break all over again for the man who she had come to see as a father, or at least a stand-in for one.</p>
<p>"I really bet the farm I could outsmart <em>that</em>," Bobby continued.</p>
<p>"So, what's it feel like?" Dean asked.</p>
<p>"What? Goin' vengeful?" Bobby took a deep breath, glancing off into space. He looked at Brooke for a moment, then turned his eyes back to Dean. "It's an itch you can't scratch out. Look… I'm done. Go get Dick. But don't do it 'cos you think it'll scratch the itch. Do it 'cos it's the job." He stared at around at all three of them, then, his eyes wide and serious. "And when it's your time… <em>go</em>."</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>They built a fire, to burn Bobby's flask, to send him off for good.</p>
<p>Brooke withstood the freezing cold of a ghost's embrace to hug Bobby, since the last time she had seen him had been the day that Castiel had walked himself, under the influence of the Leviathans, into the reservoir. He patted her back awkwardly.</p>
<p>"Here's to… running into you guys on the other side," he said, with a small smile. "Only… not too soon. All right?"</p>
<p>Dean tossed Bobby's flask into the fire, and all three stood and watched as Bobby vanished in a plume of flames.</p>
<p>Brooke was a hair's breadth from a complete breakdown when she turned away and saw Castiel, invisible to all but her, sitting on the steps, watching. His eyes met hers as she reached out to him, with a hand, and then collapsed, sobbing. She hadn't had time, before, to truly process Bobby's death; she'd been too worried about Castiel being in a coma, and then being insane after he woke up. Now, she had no more strength left to hold back the tide of tears, that image of Bobby disappearing in fire seared into her brain.</p>
<p>In the same moment that her knees hit the floor, Castiel appeared, crouched in front of her, the wind from his wings rustling her hair, cooling her face where it touched her tears. He touched her shoulder, and they were gone.</p>
<p>He had teleported them outside somewhere, and it was cold, but Brooke could barely feel it. She was blinded, entirely, by pain. The pain of losing Bobby; the pain of caring for a half-insane angel who had once been <em>her</em> rock; the utter exhaustion of… everything. Of remembering everything: keeping Castiel's secrets to the detriment of everyone else; crawling along the ground toward him and pulling pathetically at his pant legs as he caused blood to pour from every orifice in her head; being thrown down by him, when she was so used to being picked up. There was so much going on in this meltdown—Bobby had simply been the cherry on top of the cake. Rather, the straw that broke the camel's back.</p>
<p>Castiel sat, cross-legged, in the grass and pulled Brooke into his lap. She was hardly aware of him for a long time, crying so hard that she could hardly get a breath in. Slowly, though, in small increments, she became aware of a constant presence. A presence that had been there from the beginning of all of this. And for once, in the past few weeks, his mind seemed steady, as if the <em>need</em> to comfort Brooke gave Castiel the strength to find his own peace of mind.</p>
<p>Slowly, slowly, she felt his hands on her back, in her hair. Stroking, soothing, gently pulling at strands of hair. He had pushed one hand into her shirt so that the flat of his hand rested on her back, skin-on-skin. Warmth radiated from him. And he was murmuring something… At first she didn't know what he was saying; he wasn't speaking English. But eventually, as she calmed more and more, she began to understand: He was murmuring to her in Enochian.</p>
<p>It was not, exactly, a romantic-sounding language, but it had become something of a lullaby to her. Always, when their minds were connected, there was a steady stream of Enochian going in the back of Castiel's mind, and so, in the back of <em>hers</em>. He was able to think hundreds of thoughts all at once, and only the ones he thought directly to her were ever thought in English. All the rest, all those small thoughts to himself, or memories playing in his mind, were in Enochian. It was the last thing she heard when she fell asleep, and the first thing she heard when she awoke: that calm, steady, overlapping voice speaking hundreds of times at once, in Enochian.</p>
<p>And so, as Castiel held her in his arms, calm for the first time in weeks, he murmured, gently, softly, a steady stream of Enochian, and his words were thus:</p>
<p>"Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer. / From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I / For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy. / I will abide in thy tabernacle for ever: I will trust in the covert of thy wings. Selah…" [Psalm 61:1-4].</p>
<p>He said these words, over and over again, in his native tongue, the long vowels humming in his throat like music.</p>
<p>When the same prayer had been repeated perhaps a dozen times, Brooke was finally able to hear it for what it was. Castiel repeated it, still, a dozen more times, slowly, all the while rubbing her back, playing with her hair.</p>
<p>And Brooke began to calm. Eventually, her tears stopped, and her breathing slowed. She began to grow incredibly sleepy, warm and comfortable in Castiel's lap, and tired out from a good cry. She found herself nodding, her head resting against his chest. He sat with her for a time; it was impossible to know how long, for she was hanging between awake and asleep, and time is altered in those states. Now, instead of a prayer, she heard only the constant hum of his Grace, and, faintly, his heartbeat.</p>
<p>As she drifted off, completely, he stood, cradling her in his arms, and teleported back into the cabin. Gently, he lowered her down onto the couch. His face hovered above her like a dream. <em>I can help you sleep, if you like</em>, he said, his voice a gentle whisper.</p>
<p>She silently accepted his offer, and he pressed two fingers to her forehead.</p>
<p>She was gone into deep and dreamless sleep.</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>The good cry and dreamless sleep had been just what Brooke had needed. When she awoke the next morning (with Castiel right there to offer her a bowl of oatmeal with freshly-picked fruit from some orchard in France) she felt like a new woman. And that was just what was needed to go off and face Dick Roman.</p>
<p>As they stalked the halls of the big fancy building later that day, while Meg distracted the guards and Sam went off to find Kevin, Brooke felt that nothing could stop them. Castiel seemed a little more put together than he had been in the past few weeks, and he and Dean had been speaking to another as friends again. Now they were here to face the Big Bad, and, despite the danger, Brooke felt that all was right with the world again.</p>
<p>Oh, how wrong she was.</p>
<p>Finally, they found the bastard. It had taken endless minutes of skulking through the building, going door to door and window to window. Three was a crowd, so Brooke stayed back to watch their rear, to guard the entrances and exits as they moved through them, while Castiel sneaked a peek at each new Dick Roman, looking for the real one. They found him, and they stabbed him, and they stabbed him again.</p>
<p>Brooke, now that they had found the true Leviathan leader, stood beside Castiel, shoulder to shoulder, as they watched the destruction of him. But he did something strange as he died: he laughed.</p>
<p>Brooke took one step back, but snatched Castiel's hand at the same time. <em>Why is he laughing? </em>she demanded, as the air in the room began to pulsate. Every cell in her body told her to run far away, but she grasped her angel's hand harder, instead. Sam burst into the room, with Kevin—</p>
<p>—Brooke covered her face with her arm, clutching Castiel's hand so hard that she could no longer feel her fingers, as Dick Roman exploded into black goo—</p>
<p>###</p>
<p>Brooke gasped like a fish out of water as she came to her senses again, on her hands and knees beside a standing Castiel. Slowly, she rose to her feet, looking around at the dark woods surrounding them. "W-Where are we?" she asked, breathing heavily.</p>
<p>Castiel did not answer her, but pressed two fingers to her forehead for a moment. Suddenly, she was clean again, and not covered in goop.</p>
<p>"Thanks," she muttered, still glancing around.</p>
<p>Castiel began to move through the woods, and Brooke followed instinctively. She saw, just ahead, a shape on the ground. It was…</p>
<p>"Dean," Castiel called, and came to stand before Winchester. "Wake up." His voice was very low, and very serious, and his mind seemed whole again, and familiar to Brooke. It felt… the way his mind had felt, long ago, when she had first met him. Cold, distant, yet not <em>quite</em> as cold and distant as it had been back then. He seemed to have barricaded his emotions against something.</p>
<p>Brooke, who was beginning to freak out a little bit—where were they?—watched as Dean awoke and stood up.</p>
<p>"Good," said Castiel. "We need to get out of here."</p>
<p>"Where are we?" Dean asked.</p>
<p>Castiel looked at him, and then at Brooke. Then he turned back to Dean. "You don't know?"</p>
<p>Dean stared at him, thinking. "Last I remember, we ganked Dick."</p>
<p>Castiel's mind, whole a moment ago, slipped again. His eyes were very wide, as he asked, "And where would <em>he</em> go, in death?"</p>
<p>"Oh <em>fuck</em>," Brooke said, finally sifting through Castiel's thoughts enough to figure out what he was trying to tell them. "Fuck," she repeated.</p>
<p>"Wait," said Dean, glancing around again. "Wait, are you tellin' me—</p>
<p>"Every soul here is a monster," said Castiel. "This is where they come to prey upon each other for all eternity."</p>
<p>Brooke wanted to bury her face in her hands, but was too stressed to do so. She was on high alert, jumping at every twig snap in the background.</p>
<p>"We're in Purgatory?" Dean said. "How do we get out?"</p>
<p>Castiel glanced away. "I'm afraid we're much more likely to be ripped to shreds."</p>
<p>Dean turned slowly, to look around some more, over his shoulder, as <em>things</em> began to appear in the trees. Strange creatures with glowing red eyes—</p>
<p>Castiel was about to leave them both.</p>
<p><em>Fuck no</em>, Brooke thought, and latched onto his wrist, digging her fingers into his flesh until she felt them bite into his skin.</p>
<p><em>The Leviathans know I'm here</em>, Castiel hissed, silently. <em>I must leave you both. or they'll come after you, too.</em></p>
<p>Brooke only dug her fingers into his skin harder, and the Grace in her blood and bones flared to the surface, blinding her and shining light upon the shadows surrounding them. When she spoke, she spoke in two voices, her own, and the angel's: <em>You will not leave me, Castiel. I Am You.</em></p>
<p>Dean stood and stared at them both as they fought silently.</p>
<p>Castiel argued, wordlessly, for a few moments longer, then he conceded, closing his eyes and bowing his head.</p>
<p>"Cass?" Dean asked, worry clear in his voice. He turned to Brooke when the angel would say nothing. "Brooke, what—</p>
<p>But Castiel teleported them away, and the rest of Dean's words were snatched by the torrent of his wings.</p>
<p>"You committed the acts," Brooke said, as they stood side-by-side in the dark. "But I was an accessory—to deceit, to murder, to it all."</p>
<p>Castiel's head was still bowed beside her.</p>
<p>"If we are to be punished for our sins," Brooke whispered into the night, now holding Castiel's hand instead of digging her nails into his wrist, "then we will be punished <em>together</em>."</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>Our Father, who art in Heaven,</p>
<p>Hallowed be thy Name.</p>
<p>Thy Kingdom come.</p>
<p>Thy will be done</p>
<p>On earth as it is in Heaven.</p>
<p>Give us this day our daily bread.</p>
<p>And forgive us our trespasses,</p>
<p>As we forgive them that trespass against us.</p>
<p>And lead us not into temptation,</p>
<p><em>But deliver us from evil</em>.</p>
<p>END.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We've come to the end of the second book in this series. Thank you so much for those who continue to read. The third book in the series will be titled, "Held," and I will be uploading the first chapter of it shortly, so keep an eye out! I love you all - Fira.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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